#but finding people who love all of you makes it worth it and gives you the courage to stand tall and be yourseld

[dragon-ascent]

Hi hi hi!!! I absolutely adore your Zhongli fics your characterization of him makes me swoon he’s such a cutie

Out of curiosity, what’s your opinion on the Zhongli/Morax x reader trope of reader initially being a sacrifice to the dragon god only for Zhongli to be like “What no I don’t take sacrifices???” And just taking reader in as a sort of roommate or something like that. It’s a trope I find really interesting and funny and I’m curious to hear your thoughts on it :)

Hi hi and thank you! Zhongli's the cutest patootie :) <3 And I freaking LOVE that trope!!! Like, easily top 3 trope for Zhongli if you ask me. (I could make a whole tierlist of tropes for him, but that's a post for another day haha.)

Ik you just asked for thoughts but have a little write-up, as a treat. :)

xxx

Rex Lapis is a tad offended that he'd be perceived as the type of god to take human sacrifices, since he does everything in his power to ensure mortals feel comfortable and safe around him. But he's assimilated many groups of people into his land, so it's only natural some may still retain the beliefs and customs they did under the deities preceding him, as grim as that may be.

When you're left in front of his abode as a sacrifice, he sees how urgently he needs to rectify those customs.

You're a jittery thing, all nerves and shudders and, to his dismay, rather scantily-clad especially given the season. He does his best to push the implications of your clothing to the back of his mind as he brings you into his home and warms you up by the fire with some nice warm blankets too.

He assures you he will not lay a finger on you with malicious intent, but you're staring at him like a deer in headlights - like he'll throw you into the fire at any moment if you so much as breathe wrong. Every movement of his makes you stiffen, and even the tea he brews for you is met with trepidation in every sip.

He can't send you back to your people as they'll believe you're a faulty sacrifice and kill you off themselves - so Rex Lapis takes you in his care instead.

He feeds you, clothes you, and even lets you rest in his bed while he takes the floor beside you. You're mostly quiet at first, but as the days pass and there's no sign of him hurting, devouring, or killing you, a seed of trust in his words blossoms. You believe the God of Contracts when he gives you his word he will keep you safe and cared for.

Given the way he treats you, there's no reason to feel otherwise - you've become something of a close companion to him, someone to share the tender joys and sorrows of life with. He used to go on strolls by his lonesome, but now he finds that having someone to walk with is much more enriching, giving his evenings an added tinge of fulfilment.

People do stare and whisper when they see you by the god's side, but if this is how Rex Lapis chooses to make use of their 'sacrifice,' who are they to argue?

Some watch, agog, as the golden deity takes you to the market and practically splurges on you. You shyly point to a sweet treat that looks appetizing, and he boxes a dozen of them without a moment's hesitation. A pretty accessory catches your eye for a second longer than the others, and when you turn to move on to the next stall, Rex Lapis is having said accessory taken off display and handed to you.

"These are the calligraphy brushes I spoke of yesterday," he tells you casually as he runs a finger along the sleek wooden writing instruments. "Would you like to give the activity a try?" It only takes one meek nod from you for him to get you a whole set of the brushes, promising to teach you when you both get home.

It's a shocking sight to everyone who'd betrayed you, everyone who'd so easily given you up for some false belief they held on to so stubbornly: here you are, being treated like you're actually worth something to the god, what with the way he smiles and laughs softly at something you say, the way he gently touches your elbow to veer you away from the evening rush, the way his footsteps fall in rhythm with yours.

As you pass certain familiar faces, your head snaps down and you fall silent, and Rex Lapis immediately knows they're the ones responsible for your plight. He throws them a sharp, stone-cold glare over your downcast head, and they recoil in fright, quickly turning the other way to pretend they can't feel like a whole landslide of shame now hurtles along their spines.

Needless to say, he is greeted by no more human sacrifices at his door. The one he does have, he ensures a long, happy and healthy life for.

[marimayscarlett]

Hi I’m back back, back again! With more questions!

The fandom calls Paul and Richard guitars husbands right? But to help a relationship status to married you have to gradually progress through the stages of like: pining, mutual pining, dating, boyfriends and then finally married.

I was wondering what pictures or gifs/videos represent those stages for our dearest guitarists?

If I forgot one feel free to add one or remove one if it doesn’t have any fitting content! 😌 🖤

Hello dear, and thank you for your ask! 😊

I have to admit, though, I found this ask a bit tricky to answer at first. I kept going back and forth, trying to establish a clear timeline for Paul and Richard’s, let’s call it loosely, “relationship.” In some ways, that’s possible. At the start of the band’s history, we have a popular example of looks exchanged that could definitely be interpreted as “pining” or “longing”:

(GIFs by @ukulelette)

Later on, there were repeated moments on stage where they looked for closeness or looked out for each other:

Nowadays, there are wonderful moments on stage filled with cheekiness, emotions, joy, and surely also some kind of love between two people who’ve worked together for 30 years, experienced so many life situations together, endured a lot in the band's life and in general..:

(first gif by @sechsherzen)

And yet... the story between Paul and Richard always seems incredibly dynamic to me. They started out as young musicians who discovered a lot of common ground in their musical visions (I think I recall Richard saying something along the lines of “he completes me”). At the same time, they were also musical rivals in some ways, given they played the same instrument. Two people with strong opinions and firm points of views in things, who sometimes wouldn’t accept any other viewpoint but their own. They are so similar, yet have their struggles, especially to see that they're so similar it seems.

But they always manage to come back together, no matter how difficult working together might be - even going as far as seeking help for their communication (Olsen Involtini apparently played a big role in ensuring that harmony was quickly restored, as mentioned here). They maybe do it simply because they see the bigger picture. They see that enduring personal differences is worth it for the good of the band. They share the same drive to make things happen and, over the years, have learned to listen to one another and give each other space to express themselves.

If we indulge in the “Paulchard” fantasy, we can find moments of connection (body contact or just looking out for each other) at various points in the band’s history. It’s difficult for me to identify a clear chronology here - whether it’s the 90s, the challenging Mutter era, or the MiG tour...:

Of course, their warmth towards each other has exponentially increased in recent years! Longing, hugs, kisses, comforting each other, or just being there for one another.... And sometimes really taking their time with each other during these interactions, like in Frankfurt for the plane watching 🥹.

It feels like they can express these things more freely now, in their more mature years, after all their shared experiences - or at least it appears that way. And for that, I’m very happy.

(first gif by @mrsfitzgerald)

So, yes. Paulchard interactions are varied, dynamic, and ever-changing, just as most likely a relationship between people is. 🤍

And for people who like to see the Paulchard wedding with their own two eyes, there's always lovely edits 😄

(some more picture sources: x x)

[creatingblackcharacters]

Hey. Love what you do. You're amazing and I've learned a lot from your blog. You actually helped me fix some issues with my own personal projects and OCs that I'd been stuck on for ages and I love seeing you on my dash.

I was wondering if I could ask for some advice regarding a topic. See, I'm a fan of Epic: The Musical, which has some amazing Black vocalists and the fandom is filled with amazing designs for Black characters.

But after the recent release of the final concept album, I've noticed a pattern with all the Black characters. All of them are treated....not very well by the narrative or the fandom, to put it lightly. I don't think it was intentional on the creator's part, but it is pretty obvious to see, especially after the recent saga.

But when I tried to explain my thoughts to my friend that got me into the musical, they said that I'm overreacting and that there isn't any racism present.

How to I explain what it is that I've noticed to people and to get taken seriously? Because with what I've seen, I'm hesitant to ever recommend the musical to people now.

1) your friend is being racist, so. You should consider your relationship with them. Ask them what they need to see, in order to consider it racism. Ask them if they've spoken to other Black viewers and taken into account their opinions. What gives them the right to make that call?

2) between Epic and Arcane this year, I've never been so thoroughly unconvinced to watch something I might find interesting otherwise based on the outward racist behavior of the fandoms lmao. Because ik the moment I'd point something out, I'd become yet another fandoms Mean Black Boogeywoman and it's not worth it. So you're absolutely right there!

3) Even if the author's intent was not racism, that doesn't stop it from being so! I don't think many people say "let me be racist today" with their racist actions. This is why we have to create our Black characters thoughtfully, instead of just popping them into a role and saying "look, diversity!"

4) that's a hard question and unfortunately there's no easy answer. You could link them my page 🤷🏾‍♀️ but remember, you can't make people accept their racism or their enjoyment of it. You can only point it out. Whether or not they listen and choose to do better is on them. People don't take fan racism seriously because it would require them taking their OWN fan racism seriously. It's hard, feeling like everyone is okay with something so wrong, but... That is the space we're in.

What you do have the power to do, is find and support the fans of color, specifically the Black ones, that speak on what you're feeling. Because you're not alone! Support them openly, let them know that you all see what is there! And don't support people who do the horrible thing you see. Just because everyone else shares those horrible things, doesn't mean you have to.

[melisshivering]

HEARTSTEEL Dating Headcanons

A/N: I miss them your honor.

Kayn: Kayn’s idea of a date would DEFINITELY be something out of the house. I don’t think he can ever find sitting in one place for too long entertaining. Unless it’s pranking or teasing one of his bandmates which he would get scolded for by Yone soon after. The rush of adrenaline he gets while doing something spontaneous was unmatched to anything else. Besides being with you. He’d probably be laying on the couch with you proposing ideas of what you two could be doing which you’d quickly reject. You can’t let him tempt you. He sighs out of frustration. “Come on! Don't act like you don’t love messing around with me.” He’s right, and you give in. 

You two end up getting out of the house and walking around the city together. Not to do any window shopping or normal. Instead he’s taking you to some spots he’s been meaning to check out, most of them being places where you shouldn’t be. He understands it might not be your idea of fun. He reassures you that he would never abandon you if things got bad. He’s keeping an eye out in case you get seen by someone who knows you two shouldn’t be there. Before you two could even start trying to explore the off limits area you feel a tug on your arm.

Kayn pulling you into one of the dark alleyways, Your bodies closely pressed together as he hushes any protest. He explains to you that he heard the footsteps of someone. You stay there for a moment hiding from what he thought was a security guard coming around the corner. Or at least that's what you still believe. He should be looking more worried, shouldn't he. He’s not worried though. He just has a dumb smug look on his face like always. Even if this was just a ploy to get you close, could you really complain.

Ezreal: Ezreal would love to take you somewhere that he can use some of his skills from being an idol. He loves being able to do something almost flawlessly and receiving praise. Your praise means significantly more to him than that of a stranger. He excitedly pulls you along to the entrance of an arcade. So many different machines all with different colors on the screens and catchy songs playing from them, trying to tempt people to spend money. 

Ezreal begins directing your attention to the huge line of people waiting to play the DDR machine. If you don't exactly love rhythm games he’s pleading, practically begging you for one game with him. He picks the song (probably kpop) and reassures you that you can choose the easy setting if you aren't confident in playing. He would even play on easy if you asked. You can see that Ezreal gets super happy once the song starts, humming along and occasionally sings the lyrics of the song while his eyes are fixed on the screen pressing the correct arrows. If he notices that you aren’t having the best time he would use his flash to change his position. Backwards. Handstand. Hitting all kinds of silly poses just to make you laugh and distract you from the pressure. 

Ezreal also desperately tries to win you something from the crane machines. Watching all the other couples walk around with huge plushies in their arms just fuels him more. He spends too much. Like way too much money. But it’s you so it's worth it. At home later when you are both in bed he shows you the picture again this time with stickers that put cat ears on your head and emoticons surrounding you that he edited in.

Sett It really is a coin flip with Sett. He cares more on how you are feeling. If you want to go out you two go out. If you want to stay home you stay home. If you leave the house for the date it’s probably for a really cute picnic that he planned. A basket full of different food and drinks you both like. Sett lays down all the food he brought out in front of the both of you and you two dig in. Having a conversation in between bites. He would point towards certain dishes or snacks and say “When I saw it I had to get/make it for you.” 

When it started to get dark he made sure to take care of putting everything away. Throwing away empty containers and rerolling the blankets as you two made your way out of the park. He really appreciates you and just wants to take care of you that day. Not that he doesn’t think you can help clean up or carry things but he does work out a lot. What is it all for if it's not to treat you like royalty. 

If it's a date at home then it would be you too on the couch crocheting things for each other. Which he is surprisingly good at. Most would think a guy like things was purely a gym bro. Sett was in fact capable of many things. Drinks and snacks on the table as you both focus on trying to make your pieces come out as good as possible. Occasional grunts of frustration if things go awry. He'll give you pointers or guide your hands if you ask for assistance. His hands are warm against yours as your quiet evening continues. Eventually you finish your creation and he praises you for a job well done.

Yone

It’s often hard for Yone to have any free time. Even his days off are interrupted by calls or texts from the boys. His day of relaxation is now interrupted as he tries to clean up the mess they got themselves into. Normally he’s cooped up in his office or the recording studio. Any dates previously would be a quick trip to the local coffee shop since the man can’t live without caffeine. Occasionally there were work dates but he felt bad thinking it made you feel like less important than his job. 

But after pulling a few strings he made sure they wouldn’t bother him, allowing him to take a well deserved day with you.  You were a bit surprised when he formally asked you on a date. Taking you to one of the places he found relaxing. A tranquil botanical garden near the outskirts of the city. 

The trail of the garden was pretty uneven. He doesn’t want you to have difficulty walking with him so he lets you hold onto his arm and holds his hand out to you. Making sure every uneven step wouldn’t result in an accident. The stress washes away. “I’m grateful we can spend time like this..” Gentle words and praises were all you heard as you both took in the sighs of the foliage and trees. He’s almost sad as he notices the sky starting to darken. He promises to you that he’ll work hard to earn another day off to spend more time with you. You reassure him that you know he loves what he does. He needn’t feel shame for that. He may not be a big fan of PDA but being with you makes him feel like he has to do everything in his power to express his love. He gives you a deep kiss. He takes his time but doesn't let himself get carried away before you two make your way back home.

Aphelios

After getting with Aphelios you know better than anyone how he feels being out in public. So it shouldn’t be a surprise to you when he wants to spend time with you it’ll be at home 110% of the time. He finds it more intimate and enjoys the simple times with you. Where you two are just sitting, enjoying each other's company. Most if not all your dates involve both of you rummaging the kitchen for any snacks that haven’t been eaten by the other members. A soft blanket on the couch for both of you to be enveloped in later in the night. 

Remote in your hand since he wants your dates to be enjoyable. He lets you decide what to watch. Aphelios never disagrees with your choices since you seem to magically always choose something good. Or something he had been planning to watch. Even without him telling you. If you are the kind of person who rambles on about a subject related to the movie/video he will divert his attention to you. Yeah the film may be covering the things you're saying in a more professional way but the passionate tone you use is hypnotic to him. There's no way he would prefer some person reading from a script than you speaking from the heart. 

He is happy when you wait at him expectantly for his reaction to some vital pieces of the story and he usually is caught off guard. He will hand you snacks or a drink in intervals throughout the date, wanting to make sure your needs are met. You also do the same which he appreciates because it's common for Aphelios to ignore his own needs. Take care of him please 

K’Sante

K’Sante would also take you out on the down. Your date starts with the two of you sitting in a cute cafe together having a coffee together. Deciding together what you would be interested in seeing in the shopping district that day. Walking around the blocks of what felt like never ending stores. Everytime you two stop K’Sante asks if you’d to go inside. Declining the first few times since they seemed too fancy to even step foot into.

You two stop outside of a boutique with mannequins wearing elaborate clothing in the windows. A clothing store a bit more on the fancier end. K’Sante ends up explaining how he frequents the place and that he definitely recommends it. You give in because a date wouldn’t be a date if it was only window shopping. Going into some stores at least felt necessary to make sure the time was spent effectively. Being familiar with the place means that he knows exactly where to go. Already knowing your style and measurements, already having made and bought custom clothing for you. You pick out a bunch of different clothes still a bit hesitant about his offer. You didn't want to be rude and decline but also didn't want to spend too much. What even was the budget? Who knows. With K’Sante he saw no limit on what it took to get you happy. Even if there is a part inside him wanted to say that you’d never need to go out and spend money. That first statement couldn't be more true once he watched you step out of the changing rooms. Dressed in clothes that complemented not only your body but you entirely. Even if some items were overpriced he didn’t hesitate to buy you some pieces you felt like you couldn’t leave the store without.

Alune Alune would love a calm day to wind down with you. She will take you on a little date in the city with a lot of places she wants to visit. Even if she doesn’t end up buying anything she just loves having you by her side. Getting snacks from a convenient store. Grabbing all kinds of cute promotional items for whatever show is out and anything you two have already tried and loved. Alune happily places the basket of goodies on the checkout counter as she then pays for both of you. Next stop is the park.  Specifically, the one that has a big lake with a path around it. It's a nice break from her busy work days, managing the boys leaves little to no free time. You two end up taking small breaks on your walk. Sitting down on a bench under the shade of a tree simply just enjoying each other’s presence. A staple of going out with Alune is a trip to a local thrift shop. Walking down the aisles of clothes, calling each other over when you find a certain piece of clothing that would look cute on the other. If you two have similar styles it would be a playful game of “Who Can Find Cute Clothes First.”  Even then you two would give each other some of your finds just to make the other happy. Walking past other shops Alune would make comments on how she thinks one of the members would “totally be into something.” But more importantly you noted the things she says she's been eyeing. 

You come home with a bag of snacks, clothes, and self care products. You two have a mini fashion show before you both indulge in the pile of snacks you both picked out together. Ending the day with facemasks as you two decide what to watch that night.

[butnotbubblegum]

using the tags to vent my current emotional state into the void bc ig story feels like a bad plan for this, read at your own risk.

[ent-is-indecisive]

Random thoughts going nowhere

[medicinemane]

It's amazing how quickly you can make someone turn on your company by making a stupid and insulting move

Force me to go through the front door and scan my card when I have backdoor business that never needed a card before (what? ...I was going to somehow... sneak in and... purchase things with a borrowed card? ...which I totally can't do from the front door after scanning it?)

Or like... twitterify your layout right after your users give you a bunch of money just cause they like you, and then refuse to walk it back

...or all the other things companies do that just kinda piss people off and then they refuse to acknowledge maybe it sucks and is stupid cause "hey, the customers didn't leave"... yeah... yet

[yuukiiqwq]

Satoru was confident that you liked him back. He was positive. He had no doubt in his mind that you were going to be his pretty little wife. Is he getting ahead of himself? Sure, he is, but he's that confident. That's until he noticed how he hadn't received any chocolate from you.

It was Valentine's Day, and he still hasn't received any chocolate from you. Yeah, he had a mountain worth of chocolate from all those people who gave him it, but where was yours? He couldn't find it anywhere. He was sure that you would have placed your chocolate on his desk since you hadn't given him his. He double no triple checked all the chocolates, yet he could not find the one that has your pretty little name written on it. He continued to search through the chocolate pile for the fourth time today.

He must have missed it, right? Or did someone steal it? He swear he's going to hunt that person to the end of the Earth. Who dared to steal something that was rightfully his?

"Satoru, calm down."

He looked up at his best friend, who was trying to hold down a laugh at his panic.

"She'll probably give it to you later. The day just begun."

Right. Suguru is right. You'll give him his chocolate later. He's a good boy. He can wait.

That's what he told himself, but Suguru and Shoko have already received theirs this morning, and his is still nowhere to be found. Where is his chocolate? You're just sitting there in your seat, looking all pretty as if Satoru is not going through a huge dilemma because of you.

He couldn't help his hands that kept inching itself closer to the chocolate you gave Suguru. He wouldn't know if he snatched it, right? Suguru had received a lot of chocolate! He wouldn't know if he took it... was what he convinced himself before Suguru slapped his hand away.

"Satoru," he sighs.

"But Suguru!!!" Satoru whined as he sunk down into his seat.

"Be patient. You'll get yours soon."

But how soon is soon? Satoru isn't exactly known for his patient.

It was the end of the day, and still no chocolate from you. He asked Suguru and Shoko to leave first because he thought you would finally give it to him when both of you were alone. But you haven't. Where was his chocolate?

The two of you were approaching the exit of school, so Satoru made a quick decision, grabbing your wrist and pulling you into an empty classroom. He quickly shut the door and locked it.

"Satoru?" You asked in confusion. "What's wrong?"

"My chocolate."

"Your chocolate?"

"My chocolate from you! The symbol of your love towards me!"

"I didn't make you any," you replied smoothly. "Forgot to make them yesterday, so I woke up early today to make them, but I guess not early enough. I only had time to finish Shoko's and Suguru's. I didn't have time to make yours. Otherwise, I would have been late."

Satoru swear the world just ended. He looked down at his chest because he swears his heart ripped out of his chest at your words. Nope. Still alive. Why is he still alive in this cruel world? You had no chocolate for him? None? Not even a crumb?

"That's fine with you, right? I mean, you got a bunch of chocolate from other girls! You don't need mine."

He swear he is about to burst into tears. He didn't care about other girls. He didn't care about their chocolate. He wanted yours. How could you be so cruel and deny him of your chocolate? To reject him like this? He was devastated. No. Beyond devastated. Where is the closest cliff so he can jump off?

Pure silence radiated the room as Satoru tried to comprehend this horrible situation. Then he heard a small giggle slip pass your lips. That small giggle soon turns into a full-out laugh.

"You should have seen the look on your face, Satoru," you say as you try to stop laughing.

Was this funny to you? Why were you laughing at his suffering? Do you know how much he looked forward to today? To receive the cute little wrapped up chocolate you made for him? He dreamed of today, and you didn't have chocolate for him?

He then sees you reach into your bag and pull out exactly what he had imagined. A cute little chocolate box wrapped up in a baby blue color with a touch of white ribbon to finish it off. Fuck. He thinks he just got a heart attack seeing your chocolate. His chocolate.

"Princess, please don't joke like that to me ever again. You scared me half to death. I was going to jump off a cliff," he whined as he took the chocolate from your hand.

You couldn't help but roll your eyes at his dramatic behavior. "Stop being dramatic, Satoru. It's just chocolate."

A look of offense dawned his face as you utter those horrendous words to him.

"Chocolate? Just chocolate?" He huffed at you. He can't believe you as you treat this amazing god send gift as just chocolate. "Don't you dare call this just chocolate! This! This right here is proof of your undying love towards me!"

You laughed at his antics– "You're getting ahead of yourself, Satoru."

He delicately placed the chocolate safety away in his bag, treating it as a prized possession. He's looking forward towards white day. He already knows what he wants to get for you. He pulled you into a hug, nuzzling his face against your neck as he mutters– "You won't be saying that after I wife you up."

[puppetlooselystrung]

what if we all exploded and fucking died

[pearlcigs]

⋆ virgin!gf

ghost with a virgin!gf who taunts you with your virginity any chance he gets

ghost with a virgin!gf who only lets you cuddle with him when your panties are off but the second you rub against him for any kind of friction he's done

ghost with a virgin!gf who loves watching you try to get yourself off but you can't seem to get the hang of it

ghost with a virgin!gf who sits you on his thigh while he works and let's you 'discreetly' hump his thigh

ghost with a virgin!gf who jerks his leg to break your rhythm when he thinks you're getting too close

ghost with a virgin!gf who will lay you on the bed and strip you of all your clothes, blowing on your cunt to watch it flutter with need

ghost with a virgin!gf who lets you jerk his big cock off when you get him too worked up (especially right before a meeting)

könig with a virgin!gf who finds joy in feeling you squirm in bed next to him at night from how pent up he makes you

könig with a virgin!gf who will let you cup your hands around the bulge in his pants for no reason other to compare how little your hands are compared to his dick

könig with a virgin!gf who encourages you to wear revealing outfits and you do in hopes that he'll break and finally fuck you (he never does)

könig with a virgin!gf who really wants to take your virginity and him not being able to have sex with you is really hard for him but the teasing and edging pleasure he gets from making you wait is worth it

könig with a virgin!gf who will deadass just tell people you’re a virgin to embarrass you

könig with a virgin!gf who gets your hopes up by saying that he'll finally fuck you but the catch is he'll only fuck you anally

könig with a virgin!gf who loves watching you give him puppy dog eyes as you beg him for any kind of contact

first part (same person, just different blogs.)

@neoarchipelago @i-like-knives-n-stuff @angethehimbosimp @cvmcollecter @multy-fandom-lover @multistan-247 @lilwingedwolfy @thisuserisaninfpgirl @fatisll05

[hxzbinwrites]

Hi! I just saw that requests are open, yeah!! I'd like to request an Alastor x fem!Reader where Vox has a crush on her so he sends her a set of different tea flavor as a gift. The problem is that these contain a drug that inhibits the person (thanks, Valentino). Basically, his plan was to wait for her to drink the tea and then show up at the hotel and seduce her so he could have her for himself (my boy thinks she loves him, lol). The problem is that she had graciously offered the tea to Alastor, who drinks it. Vox asks her if she enjoyed the tea she lies saying it was delicious so he immediately shows up at the hotel but ends up finding Alastor who is being super affectionate with her, revealing his true feelings for her. Eventually Alastor attacks Vox as soon as he sees him forcing the other to flee. Fluff and comedy, basically. xD

Alastor x Fem! Reader x Vox | Tea Time Troubles

Warnings ⚠️:  Cussing, drugs, controlling and manipulative Vox, out of character Alastor.

"I dunno 'bout this Voxxy" Valentino said, handing him a baggie of the drug, a weak aphrodisiac lining the walls of the bag.

"Don't worry about me Valentino, I'll be fine" Vox reassured him, holding the bag up to his screened face. He smirked deviously as he put his hands behind his back.

"But you tell me all the time 'bout 'public image' and all that shit." Valentino retorted, crossing his lower arms against his stomach.

"Don't you worry your pretty little face about it Honey" Vox sneered, rubbing his cheek in a falsely affectionate way. "Vox is a big boy and can handle himself. I just gotta put this into some tea bags. (Y/n) WILL be MINE."

"Ugh" The moth groaned, taking a puff of his cigar,"She's not even worth it. She hangs out with radio, fossil trash. If she was good shed know who to choose. Besides, I'm better than she is, right?"

"You're wrong." Vox said, his left eye radiating hypnotizing waves out of anger,"(Y/n) is perfect. She's everything, and she will be mine."

Vox's demonic laughter could be heard across the building, sending chills down anyone who heard it's spine.

--------

"Honey!!" (Y/n) exclaimed, holding up the box of tea that arrived at their house,"Your tea shipment came!"

Alastor, who was reading the paper at the kitchen table, looked over to see his dear (Y/n) carrying two large cardboard boxes.

He teleported over, making his shadows place them atop of the counter. His keen eyes narrowed at the second box, seemingly almost identical to the first one.

"How peculiar!" Alastor said, tapping his cane on the second box, almost poking it as if it was a foreign object.

"What's peculiar about it?" The fellow deer demon asked, peering over at the box her partner was so intrigued by.

"I did not order two shipments of tea from the catalogue this month!" He replied, his smile tightening in irritation. Could someone be trying to plant something in this hotel? Trying to hurt any of his friends, his beloved, or him?

"Maybe it's a promo box?" (Y/n) suggested,"I mean, you are a loyal customer of theirs. Maybe they want you to try a new product, I hear that's the new rage."

"Ah" Alastor replied, walking closer to the counter to rip open the second box to be met with a letter and a large box of tea.

"Thank you for your loyalty Mr. Alastor. We're reaching out to our most loyal customers to give this Promo box to! We're asking that you try our newest flavor, a (your favorite flavor) but with a twist! Despite the erratic sounds at night in Hell, this tea should help you fall right asleep! If you enjoy it, please promote so on your beloved Radio Show!"

"I was right!" The doe said, looking up at her partner,"They must've given it to you because they know you're famous and can promote their tea! Very smart people, I wanna try one tomorrow!"

"Tomorrow? Why not today my doe?" Alastor said, looking down at his partner.

"My stomach isn't feeling the best. Charlie's cake wasn't fully cooked through, but I didn't want to be rude and not eat it. Especially because no one else was!"

Alastor chuckled, petting her sensitive ears. "Now now (Y/n), you should've listened to me! I know all!"

"Al..." She said, batting her eyes up at him,"Do you mind trying it for me? I wanna know if it's good, but I don't want to throw up in my sleep!"

"Why should I?" He inquired, smirking down at (Y/n). "It seems like this predicament could've been easily avoided my little doe! Hahaha!"

"Please" She softly asked, smiling at him back.

"I suppose I can try one cup of it." He said, sitting down at the table, fully expecting (Y/n) to make him the cup as he finished reading his paper.

She giggled at him and began to start the kettle. Moments like these can't be replaced, a docile and homey moment between the two of them. (Y/n) loved seeing this side of him. The Alastor side of him, not the Radio Demon.

(Y/n) opened the smaller box that was enclosed in the large one, picking out the first tea bag. She smelled the bag, the fumes of blended herbs wafting in her nostrils. It smelled lovely, she would've to drink one alongside Alastor.

But she held back on picking up another bag, knowing its sleeping effects. (Y/n) really didn't want to throw up while in her sleep, and potentially on Alastor, who would be as knocked out as her.

Sighing, she finished preparing the tea, pouring it in Alastor's favorite teacups, the one (Y/n) gifted him on their second anniversary many years ago.

She walked back over to him, placing the teacup on his saucer, putting the sugar cube in as well.

"Thank you dearest" Alastor said, his eyes skimming over the newspaper,"I shall be in our room in a moment, why don't you go ahead and get in your nightwear?"

"Alrighty" (Y/n) replied, patting the back of Alastor's chair. That was something the two of them did, (Y/n) knew when to touch Alastor and when to not. Still wanting to show him affection, she'll pat an object close to him.

Alastor gave her a soft smile before returning his focus to the newspaper.

The doe walked up the stairs in the hotel to their shared room. She got in her fluffy pajamas, completed each and every step to her skincare routine, and crawled into bed with a book.

The silence was only broken by the occasional turn of a page, this was (Y/n)‘s daily quiet time, as Alastor liked to read the paper before turning in for the night.

This normally is for about an hour, but tonight it was a mere 30 minutes as the door busted open.

The doe yelped, her skittish nature causing her to flinch at the sudden jolt of noise. Her partner flittered into the room before crawling on top of her, his eyes droopy from the affect.

“Hi sugar” He said, burying his face in the crook of her neck. His ears were pressed against his head as he affectionately nuzzled (Y/n). Alastor grabbed her waist and flipped her on top of him, allowing him to bring her closer to his body, her chest atop of his.

“Al-Alastor?!” (Y/n) exclaimed, tensing up. What has gotten into him!? He’s not one to ever make such…bold advances.

“Oh my love” He said, a dreamy lilt in his voice,”you’re just perfection incarnate. Such a lovely little fawn you are.”

Blushing heavily, she let him rest himself on her, snuggling contently. It was rather peaceful, she did not know where this sudden chance of behavior came from, but it certainly wasn’t the worst by far.

(Y/n)’s ears perked up hearing a notification sound ding from her phone. She slowly grabbed it to check what it was.

Alastor was not very keen on allowing this sort of technology in the house, especially knowing Vox is over all of it. So they made a compromise, he’d take out the camera and microphone and she could have the phone.

Seeing it was a message from Vox, she opened it.

Vox: “Hey sweetheart, I pulled a few strings and got a shipment of some new tea of (your favorite flavor) that was being tested. How did you like it baby?”

(Y/n): Oh, it was good, thanks!

Vox: Just good? You sure sweet stuff? Wasn’t it so good you could just kiss the lips off of the person who got it for you?

(Y/n) sighed, shutting her phone off and curling up with her lover.

“I think that’s a yes!” Vox said, throwing his hands in the air ceremoniously. He quickly put on his best bow tie, in hopes it would get taken off by fingers other than his, and made his way towards the Hazbin Hotel.

————

Vox searched through each room until he found the one you and Alastor shared.

He scowled at the door, seeing a heart with the initials scribed on it “(Y/i) + A”

Pathetic. He could give you so much more than that. He could give you the most advanced technological sign known to mankind just for some silly initials, not some shitty hard with nearly illegible handwriting.

He opened the door, his signature smirk dropping as he saw Alastor, his arch nemesis (in Vox’s eyes) peppering small little kisses all over (Y/n)‘s face, making her giggle.

“WHAT THE FUCK?!” Vox yelled, his face was blue-screening.

Alastor took one look at the fellow Overlord and let out a long string of laughter, sitting up as he pulled (Y/n) into his lap.

“Vox?! What are you doing here?!”

“YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO BE THE ONE TO DRINK THE TEA!! AND THEN YOU’D BE MINE!!”

Alastor hooked a arm around (Y/n)‘s waist, looking at his opponent across the room.

“This is my doe, my love, and we all know if she would’ve drank the tea, she would’ve always chosen me.”

Lets just say, the power around the Pride Ring went out after that comment.

————

Word Count 1,524

[bumpkinspice0]

Office Hours

Logan Howlett/ Wolverine x Mutant!FemReader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 3.8k

Summary: A few months into working back at the mansion and Logan still can't keep his hands off you. A/N: This is vaguely tied to my other Logan fic "No One Knows…" but not at all required reading. All you need to really know is reader is a returning X-Man that can control Earth/ rocks and is codenamed Dozer (Short for Bulldozer) Warnings: S M U T, medium plot??? but mostly just porn, established relationship, under desk blowjobs, office sex, light dom/ sub, a single spank possessive Logan (Someone needs to put me down)

AO3 if you prefer to read there

_______

The morning light pours in through the windows of your bedroom. Logan holds you close against him in bed while you, less than enthusiastically, try to squirm out of his grasp.

A few months back into your old life at X-mansion and you can confidently say it was the best decision you’d ever made in a long, long time. All the kids returned to a brand new environmental science teacher and a newly reconstructed mansion that somehow looked almost exactly the same— give or take a few changes to the gardens.

You’d missed this, you missed being part of the X team, whether it was as an X-Man or just a teacher. For the first time in a long time, you felt like you were making a real tangible difference in people's lives. 

Yes, you desperately wanted to return to your roots and start over— but he was also a nice perk to all the chaos. 

Your relationship with Logan was just as new as your employment in Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters. He reeled you in like a fish on a hook. Whatever the two of you had, it was nice. You think it had been a long time since he had something like this too. Someone to care for. Someone to please. 

Neither of you could keep your hands off each other. 

It was too early for ‘I love you’s’ or to declare something like moving in together, but he already spent most nights in your room as it was. If he didn’t spend the night he’d find you in the early morning just to hear you moan his name. That boy was determined never to let you sleep— not that you’re really complaining.

You’d never had a lover like Logan. Someone so… starved. He craved your touch, rambled on about your scent, and held you on the edge for what felt like hours. It was all new and some parts of it, admittedly, a little weird, but fuck was it exciting. 

You’d started a new life for yourself, more or less. Started over, more accurately. And he was there to soften all the blows. You hope you did the same for him. 

You can’t believe you thought he ever had ulterior motives about you when you came back. Once you found out you both had more similar pasts than you’d realized, you were sure the only thing he'd want was information from you. How glad you were to be wrong. 

Victims of the same cruelty but you were both different. You still had your memories. Your identity. He didn't. 

You vowed to help find out who he was, and that seemed to mean more to him than anything— but it was a slow process. Old information and long abandoned facilities. Still, you had each other through all of this and that helped the pain, just a little. Facing your demons together. 

Right now, however, Logan was your only tangible demon. He still had you trapped in bed and late for class. 

“Just a quickie,” he purrs, nibbling at your ear.  

“I have a class to teach in 20 minutes. You should have gotten here earlier,” You muster up any strength you have against him, “And it’s never quick with you.”

“Or you just don’t want it to be quick,” His mouth finds your bare shoulder, already marked with week's worth of love bites from him. You can’t deny the trill of excitement it sends through you.

This fucking man. 

You want to. Lord in heaven, you really, really want to. Sometimes this being a responsible mentor thing got in the way.

“Logan…” You push lightly against his chest. It’s not much of a protest, really. None of your weak-willed squirming was.

“Okay… okay,” His grip around your waist finally loosens and you reluctantly get out of bed. He gives your ass a playful spank as you do. 

“You’re insatiable, you know that?” You scold him with a smile as you dig through your dresser for anything that was clean. 

“Got a good reason to be,” He grins, resting his arms behind his head and stretching out over the bed. You can’t help the blush that creeps into your cheeks. Logan never missed an opportunity to compliment you. 

You, a little reluctantly, pull on a pair of jeans and one of his white shirts. Slowly but surely all your laundry was getting intermingled to the point of no return. That and you know he always liked when you wore something of his. You don’t think any of your own tee-shirts were clean anyway.

Yeah, it’s probably time to do laundry. 

You top it off with a loose black cardigan to seem somewhat teacherly. You gather your folders with today’s syllabus. You had three classes today. Logan usually had two— if you could you really call PE and survival basics a class. The kids usually just roped him and Kurt into playing flag football with them. It was adorable in its own Logany way.

“I’ll see you out there, Professor Logan,” you give him a peck on the forehead before shimming on your shoes. 

“God, don’t ever call me that again.” He chuckles, covering his face with his forearm.

“Would you prefer daddy?”

His hand immediately drops, “Don’t tempt me, darlin’.”

You’re at the door now, giving yourself one last moment to admire the perfect man sprawled out in your bed.

“Don’t sleep in too late,” you open the door. 

“See you out there, toots.”

______

There are only a few more warm days left in fall and you refuse to let them go to waste. You always liked holding classes outside anyway. This was Environmental Science after all. As an earthmover, it always felt natural. Feeling the actual ground under your feet made everything easier to teach in a way. 

You’re teaching the different types of erosion this week. The class is gathered on the grass on the edge of the pond as you hover different rocks around them. Examples of river-smoothed stones, bed clay, and a few from the Grand Canyon you’d brought in from your personal collection. 

You’d never thought of yourself as the best teacher but the kids seemed to at least enjoy the theatricality. You knew dirt. You knew the earth, and that seemed to be enough.

You hear the PE class run out onto the other side of the lawn, Logan dutifully following behind them. You don’t even need to look to feel his eyes on you. You're not sure if you're irritated by the distraction or think it’s a little cute he wants to be near you.

Well, if he’s going to distract you and your class, you might as well distract him. The kids had started a game of frisbee golf, something his full attention didn’t need to be on anyway.  Logan always joked he was just a glorified babysitter. You take off your cardigan when you feel a small gust of wind. His head immediately snaps your direction when you do. 

He’d told you before he liked the mix of your scents. The more animalistic part of him liked it anyway. He always seemed ashamed of it, despite your insistence you didn’t care. You could never truly understand, sure, but that didn’t change your feelings for him. Besides, you didn’t mind feeding the animal every once in a while. 

You’d reached the end of your class period and quickly dismissed your students, reminding them of the homework as they scurried back into the mansion. You remain outside, cleaning up the small mess your lesson had made. 

You still feel Logan’s eyes on you. You can’t help the excitement his gaze stirs in you. Logan did something to you no other man had ever done— he made you feel desirable in ways you’d never experienced. 

It was an incredible turn-on, to say the least.

You feel your panties slowly start to wetten. You see a shift in his posture in the distance. You smile, bending over to pick up the loose papers you’d left on a nearby bench. You pause there far longer than you needed to— just a small tease but you know it’s something that’ll drive you crazy. He always said he liked you in these jeans the most.

You feel his eyes burning into your back the entire walk to the mansion. You can’t help but smile.

______

You're leaning against the front of your desk, looking over tomorrow's lesson, when you hear his signature booming steps hurrying down the hallway. It’d been an hour since your last class ended. He enters the office, closing the door behind him immediately. 

“Professor Logan,” You greet him teasingly, leaning back against the desk. 

He says nothing as he stalks towards you with heavy steps, crashing his mouth into yours. You pull him in as he inserts his body between your legs. His mouth is hungry against yours— desperate even. His lips trail down to your jaw.

“You think you’re cute, huh? Prancing around in my clothes, showing off your ass, gettin’—”

“I’m very cute,” you giggle as he nips at you.

He growls, pulling you up to lead you back to the desk chair. He liked it when you sat on his lap. It was both of your lunch breaks. You’d always spend them together, though usually not in your shared office.

Charles required everyone to have office hours, even Logan. He fought it every step of the way until he finally relented to just sharing yours. He was almost never here. He didn’t have a reason to be— well unless you were there. His desk sits across from yours just as bare as the day it was put in. Yours, on the other hand, was quickly cluttering as the school year went on.

“Still worked up from this morning,” Logan admits as he nips at your lip, “Need you, sweet thing.”

Absolutely insatiable.

“Poor boy,” You tease, your hands slowly trailing down to his obnoxious belt buckle. “I’ll take care of you.”

You always liked to tease him more than you’d care to admit. He’d get so worked up over the smallest things. You were always happy to indulge him… every fucking time. 

You sink down to your knees, pulling his jeans with you. His cock bulges out against his boxers, already hard and waiting. You palm at him, giving him a rough squeeze through the fabric. He hums in approval. God, he always felt so good.

There’s almost a sigh of relief when you pull him free. You give him a few rough strokes before your tongue follows, trailing up from his base and swirling around his tip, pre cum already leaking free. His rough hands grip your hair as you lavish his cock with your tongue. 

You pause at the tip, placing a single feather light kiss before taking him completely into your mouth. He chokes out a strangled moan, doing his best to stay quiet. Luckily, the walls of the mansion were thick. 

The grip in your hair tightens as you find a rhythm. 

“T-that's it,” his voice is shaky, dripping with pleasure, “Just like that. Good girl.”

He always praised you. Whether giving or receiving, he always made sure you felt seen. 

A part of this excited you so much. It was scandalous, having him splayed out like this at your work desk, doing your best to suppress the moans that brew in your throat from the thrill of it all. You loved making him fall apart. This was just as much for him as it was for you. You were both having fun. Both acting like giddy, horny, little teenagers. 

His grip in your hair shifts, and you feel him tense under you. He can’t be close already? Before you have time to ask what’s going on you’re being shoved underneath your own desk. You want to scream what the absolute fuck?! before you hear the office door being clicked open.

“Logan?” It's Scott’s voice. 

“What?” Logan bites out, leaning over the front of the desk to conceale you completely. Thank god Charles always insisted on these massive solid oak desks.

“I’m just— You’re sitting at Dozer’s desk,” Scott stammers out. 

“Had something I needed,” he quickly lied. 

You’re cramped into a wooden box basically, one of the walls being made out of thick muscled legs with a heavy cock still hanging between them. You were playing a game with Logan, might as well make it more interesting. 

“Have you seen her?” Scott asks, “I needed—”

“No.” Logan only grits out, “She’s probably down in the—”

He cuts himself off the moment your hand grasps his cock again. You can’t help but smile when you run your tongue back up the velvet length. He can’t move his arms because that would expose you. He can’t move his legs because there’s not enough room with you between them. He’s stuck here while you torture him in the sweetest way possible. You don’t miss the way his cock jumps when you take him back into your mouth. 

“She’s where Logan?” Scott, blissfully unaware, prompts him.

“I don’t— I don’t fucking know,” You swear you can almost feel him shaking with the effort to keep his voice steady, “Why don’t you go fucking look for her then, huh?”

There isn’t as much room to move your head as you’d like, so you let your tongue and hands do most of the work. 

“Well, can I just get on her computer?” You hear Scott take a step closer. Oh no, “I just need a—”

“Piss off, Summers!” He practically growls it out. “You need her then go fucking find her.”

You hear Scott scoff as he takes a step back. To be fair, this was completely in character for the two of them. It was doubtful Scott suspected anything. You reach up and give Logan’s balls a gentle fondle while you worship his tip with your tongue as silently as you can.

Finally, you hear Scott retreat to the hallway. 

“I don’t know why she’s with you, Logan. I really don’t.” He spits before slamming the door behind him. 

Logan doesn’t waste a second once the door is closed again, pushing the chair back and grabbing your face roughly. His cock falls from your mouth with a wanton gasp. You must look like a mess but can’t bring yourself to care.

He just holds you there for a moment, your mouth just inches away from his cock. His eyes have glossed over with lust. He loved this, you know he fucking loved this because you did too. 

“You’re trouble,” he says, pulling you both to standing, “You’re so much fucking trouble.”

He turns you around and bends you over the desk immediately, a few pencil cups shaking with the force. He yanks down your jeans a little rougher than you’d like but you still kick them off the rest of the way. Your underwear still remained in place. He kicks your legs wider and trails a hand up your back, pressing his palm down between your shoulders. His other hand drips between your legs, a finger rubbing over your clothed pussy.

“Fucking soaked through already?” he purrs. “You get wet sucking my cock, baby?”

“Yes.” It practically comes out as a plea. Well, it’s only fair he’s toying with you now. Your legs are almost shaking in anticipation. 

You squirm as he starts to rub the damp fabric directly over your clit. His hand on your back presses you down harder, pinning you in place. He’s doing what you did to him— in his own way. Trapped at his mercy. 

He pushes your underwear to the side, two fingers running through your slick folds a few times before delving in. You bite your lip to suppress a moan, barely successful in silencing yourself. He curls his fingers, back and forth as he works his hand up and down. Anyone could walk in that door at any moment. Logan would stop if he heard anyone coming again—right?

“You know what you do to me?” His voice is ragged, almost pained, “Fuck, do you have any idea?”

His pace is speeding up and your restraint is slipping, but there’s nothing you can do to get out of this. And, fuck you don’t want him to stop either. You’re completely his right now. 

You finally let out a wail when rips his hand out of your cunt and slaps it across your ass. His touch stays there, gripping the stinging skin, sharp pain quickly melting to the pleasure that was racking your whole body. He takes his other hand off your back. You don’t move, your stomach stirring in anticipation.

It feels better than it should when his hard, massive cock runs over your soaked pussy. He’d dialed up all of your nerves to eleven. You involuntarily ach back into him like a fucking bitch in heat.

“Oh Christ, why are you with me…” he lines himself up, “That’s what Summers said, right? He doesn’t know why you’re with me?”

“Logan—” You attempt to speak up before the air in your lungs vanishes when he thrusts inside of you in one jarring motion. He stays there a good moment, grinding his hips into your ass, gathering himself. God, he was so fucking deep. He draws out and slams back in again. You hear the desk creaking in protest this time, several items falling off. 

He leans over you, hot tongue trailing up your spine before nuzzling his face in next to your ear. 

“I know why,” He starts to roll his hips against yours. His imposing body and magic dick were taking over every sense you had. God, you wish you could scream. “It’s because you know no one else can fuck you like I can. Can take care of you like I can.”

He nips at your ear as he finds a pace, tiny low grunts escaping in rhythm with his hips. This was just as much about dominating you as it was about being as close to you as humanly possible. Mixing your scents and desires together until the line is blurred between the two. Yes, Logan fucked you unlike anyone else had, and your certain better than anyone else ever could, but he also loved you harder than you ever knew possible. 

Loyal to a fault. It’s instincts, he always said. You always hated when he compared himself to an animal, but in a lot of ways it's just part of who he was. He seemed past trying to deny it and embrace it in his own way. Let the beast free, so to speak. 

“Tell me,” He growls into your ear, “Tell me who makes you feel this good.”

You struggled to form the single-word answer, but it eventually came out, whined and shaky. 

“Y-y-you,” you swear you’re drooling, “O-only you, b-baby. O-only—” You trail off, likely losing all brain function to the intoxicating filth of it all. 

“That’s right. T-that’s right,” he chants a few times like he’s fucking praising himself for it, “Only me. You’re all mine. I’m all yours.”

You’re not sure if it’s a gasp of surprise or pain that escapes you when he lifts you both. He holds you against him, still fucking you while you’re both standing. You’re forced to stand on your tiptoes, your hands grasping onto the forearm around your chest for any sense of balance. You weighed nothing to him. He’s still fucking you senseless. He’s holding you both up and still fucking you senseless.

You swear you go blind when his other hand snakes down to your clit. 

“Shoulda stayed in bed this morning,” His stubble rubs against your cheek, “Wouldn’t have to fuck you like this if we— shit— if we had time this morning.”

“L–Logan, I–I—” You start to warn him but can’t manage to get it all out. Nevertheless, you’re sure he knows. He always knows when you’re close. You feel it, the mounting pressure at your core. Sweet, precious relief. 

“I know, baby. I know.” 

It hits you like a train, hard and almost completely by surprise. The hand around your chest immediately comes up to clamp around your mouth. You scream against his palm while he keeps fucking you through your orgasm, practically using you like a goddamn sex toy at this point. 

He mutters out a string of curses while he attempts to maintain his equilibrium— and eventually fails. He collapses back into the chair behind him, dragging you with him. He almost slips out. Almost. He holds you close against his chest, hips completely still against your ass as he pulses rope after rope into you.

“Good girl, good girl,” you hear him muttering into your neck like a prayer. 

Your haggard moans into his hand eventually fade into one long heavy sigh, finally allowing yourself to relax against him. You feel his body unwind as well, his previously firm hand over your mouth coming to stroke your cheek. His lips lull around your neck, placing sloppy kiss after sloppy kiss wherever he could reach. He was always so gentle after sex. Those hands that were so rough just a moment ago gently glide over your skin. You always find comfort in their heft. 

“Do you think anyone heard us?” you finally ask, leaning your head back against his. 

“Fuck ‘em if they did,” he nuzzles himself right under your jaw. Close— he always had to be so close. 

“Charles is gonna fire us if he ever finds out,” you bring your hands up to your face, rubbing into your eyes just a little too hard.

“You can’t fire an X-Man.”

“Teachers, Logan, we’re teachers.” Ah good, the mortification was settling in just in time to ruin the moment. Fabulous. 

“Stop it,” you swear you can hear the smile in his voice. 

“He’s gonna read our minds and see what absolute animals we are and he’s gonna fire us.” The irony that you're saying this out loud while Logan is still fully inside you in your shared office is not lost on you. You feel his chest bouncing against your back, chuckling lightly at your dismay of your surely oncoming termination. You can’t help but laugh along with him, just a little. 

You eventually untangle your bodies and fish your pants off the floor. Maybe you had time for a shower before your next class. Christ, you need one. Logan wasn’t the only mutant with advanced senses in the school and the last thing you need is teenagers starting a rumor mill about two teachers fucking in their office. Still, when you look back at Logan you know you’d do it all over again regardless.

Whatever this was with him, whatever you’d started, you know you can’t stop it. The thought should terrify you, but for once you’re not afraid.

You reach out and grab his hand, “Wanna grab lunch?”

“Thought you’d never ask, darlin’.”

[hxney-lemcn]

Mine, Only Mine — Mr. Crawling, Gap, Silvair, Chopped, Hugeface, and Scarletella x gn! reader

summery: how jealous do some of the Homicipher boys get?

tw: unhealthy relationships (Mr. Hugeface & Scarletella)

wc: 1.2k

Master List

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Mr. Crawling

❥I know people have written about how he gets jealous…but I don’t really think he does? Or at least not terribly. The scene with Mr. Chopped and the cat ears show that Mr. Crawling won’t pout or get sad at you showing affection to others, just that he wants to gain the same attention (the ear scene…). So jealousy with Mr. Crawling isn’t too bad, just be prepared to shower him with more affection than the person you originally did. 

❥On the other hand, I do think his jealousy may increase if you ignore him. Say you give more attention to Mr. Scarletella, Mr. Crawling would get a bit sad and pouty, thinking you don’t like him anymore. If this happens, give him lots and lots of attention and reassurance, he’ll be super grateful. I mean he loves your affection anyways, so might as well give him some extra headpats and kisses. Even better if you only show certain signs of affection with him, it makes him feel special. 

❥Overall, not the most jealous, but not completely unaffected either. Make sure he gets his daily dose of attention/quality time and he’ll be as right as rain.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Mr. Gap

❥Uh, he gets more jealous than you’d think. Like…his whole thing is he wants to be special to you…in his own strange way. Doesn’t like the thought of someone taking his place as a jokester to you. Also why he brings you things he’d think you like from time to time, just to make sure you still have that special place in your heart for him <3

❥Hates hate hates when you call him bad or not good. He’s good! He swears! Remember how he’s helped you before! Gets all frowny when you call him not good and then call someone else good. He’s good too! Guess he has to prove it, AGAIN. It’s honestly kind of endearing how he has no clue how he actually kind of does like you? But not exactly in a romantic way? It’s honestly hard to label his feelings towards you, so why should I?

❥I’d say he’s the second most jealous in this list of characters, watching on angrily as you praise someone that isn’t him. Be prepared for magazines and books galore when he’s in this mood, trying to prove his worth to you. Kind of strange for someone to try so hard when they claim to not like you…

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Mr. Silvair

❥Definitely the chillest one here. Doesn’t really get jealous at all :/ If anything, he finds it entertaining when you’re affectionate with others. Gives him more insight to his lab rats. Yes, he sees everyone as a lab rat. Idk, I can’t really see him get jealous.

❥Maybe…MAYBE if someone else tries doing research on you, or if Ms. Nurse treats you instead he’ll feel a bit off. Like…you’re his test subject, he knows you from the inside out…literally and not in the fun sense. Why would you go to someone who doesn’t know as much about you and how this world affects you? It’s very hard to spot his jealousy, doesn’t even notice it/recognize it himself. He just doesn’t want anyone to mess up his data…that’s all…totally.

❥In conclusion, not really jealous. Doesn’t feel like he needs to be. You’re ‘friends’, doctor and patient, mad scientist and lab rat not many others threaten that balance between you. 

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Mr. Chopped

❥Honestly…Mr. Chopped I’m kinda mixed on how he’d be. Like on one hand, I could totally see him getting jealous if you call others cute or pay too much attention to them. On the other…he could probably care less. He loves himself, you love him, why does he need to get jealous? It’s clear how much you like him with the way you pamper him. I mean we get so many examples where you’re affectionate to Mr. Crawling in front of Mr. Chopped and he doesn’t really bat an eye. 

❥Now, I can see if he gets a bit insecure he might get more jealous. Whether it be because Mr. Crawling pats your head or tucks you into bed, Mr. Chopped feels a bit sad. He’d like to tuck you in, you look so comfy. Might be just a bit pouty, eyeing you like a dissatisfied cat. Easily rectified with head pats or even cuddles. Gets side tracked from his jealousy as soon as you give him a sliver of attention honestly.

❥Mr. Chopped is fifty fifty when it comes to jealousy, but it’s never too bad. He’s pretty comfortable with what you both have and doesn’t really feel threatened by others. After all, you did call him cute.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Mr. Hugeface

❥I wouldn’t say he gets jealous? More possessive than anything. Like that scene when Mr. Machete stumbles into his little makeshift dollhouse that he made for you and gets all angry that he’s there. It’s more of a ‘you’re not supposed to be here, this is our playtime’ more than actual jealousy. Throws a little fit whenever someone messes up your playtime. Very accusatory lmao.

❥Does not like when you try to escape. Was he not providing enough for you? Were you unhappy? You’re not allowed to leave! You’re his cute human! He can’t just find another one y’know. Mr. Hugeface may be lenient if he sees you happier, you need enrichment after all. Feels extra happy if you come back on your own violation. 

❥The most childish out of all the characters on this list. Isn’t afraid to throw tantrums, will also punish you by putting you in a solid concrete cube if he’s really upset. Yeah…not the most healthy of relationships to have…BUT! I do think you could convince him to be a bit better…? Maybe? Only if you put enough work in communicating with him though. Maybe punish him in your own way like leaving for longer if he threatens to trap you.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Mr. Scarletella

❥Uhhhhhhhhhhh. Top of the list when it comes to jealousy. Watches your every move with curiosity and spite. Why are you doing that to Mr. Crawling? Do it to him instead. Why do you look so happy braiding Mr. Chopped’s hair? Style his hair instead. Why are you looking so fondly amused at Mr. Gap? Don’t you find him amusing? You do like him, right? He likes you. He likes you a lot, and he thought he was enough…was he not?

❥Will stare through your skull. It is so intimidating. His smile? Strained, it makes your skin crawl. You have to make sure he doesn’t hurt your friends, he’s so close to snapping, but he knows that would upset you and that’s not his goal. So instead he stands ominously in the background, body staticing in and out while his hand clenches the handle of his umbrella. 

❥Not that easily mended. Likes to monopolize all your time and affection. Needs constant reassurance as well, he’s quite needy. If you like constant validation and no social life go for it, just don’t get too upset if he threatens your other monster friends…he can’t stand that you could like someone that wasn’t him.

[julymusings]

Jason Todd x Single Mom!Reader

I've been plagued for many months now by the idea of jason todd x young single mom!reader. I literally made this blog this morning just to post this

this is so LONG try as i might to shorten it i've been itching to get all this out of me so enjoy this word vomit i might just make a full fic if i'm feeling extra frisky

You got pregnant in college, and now you’re fresh out of grad school moving to a new city with your 3 year old daughter

You got a job at Wayne Enterprises, leading an important new project. You and your colleagues are invited to the latest Wayne Gala, hosted at the billionaire’s own manor. All these years as a young mother and a student, you hadn’t any experience with such extravagance-- how could you say no?

the party lowkey sucks because it's all old rich people so you sneak out to a balcony where you find a young man drinking whiskey and texting on his phone.

he introduces himself as jason, and his hand is rough and calloused when you shake it, but it's warm and sends a tingle up your arm. (😏)

You chat about your work, he complains about the stuffiness of a life at Wayne Enterprises and you laugh when he warns you to get out while you can (he's joking, of course. not because he thinks it's worth staying but because if you leave he'd never be able to hear that adorable laugh again)

when you go off on a tangent about how excited you are for your project, he's not even listening anymore. the sheer passion that lights up your face has his mind going fuzzy and a full orchestra playing in the background

you're pulled back in before he can get your number :( he's so mopey all weekend he doesn't even have it in him to retaliate when damian makes fun of him for having pink pony club as his top song for this month :(

when you get home your email is flooded with warnings from other parents at your daughter's daycare about a lice scare?? okay, you think, she's definitely not going on monday, you can just bring her to work with you, right? what's the worst that could happen?

the following monday he just happens to show up at the office (He can't just stop by to say hi to his brother who he loves?) (tim calls security almost immediately)

you're not at your cubicle (in a meeting, your desk neighbor informs him) so he mills about the floor like a lost puppy just waiting for you to show up so he can "accidentally" run into you

the woman at the front desk has a chair pulled up next to hers where this little girl with pigtails is sitting, trying to console her as tears stream down her face

jason springs into action, kneeling in front of her chair to ask what's wrong

she just sniffles and holds up her stuffed animal, an elephant whose button eye has popped out, the woman watching her trying to get her to hand it over so she can sew it back on but she wont let go

he goes full grey's anatomy, fussing over the toy like it's in mortal peril and complimenting her for being so brave before gently asking if he can try to fix it

she lets him take it and he uses the woman's travel sewing kit to stitch it back on

she's ecstatic, leaping forward into his arms to give him a big hug

but now she won't let him leave because no he has to have a conversation with the elephant first and introduce himself and give it post-surgery care instructions and listen to it talk about how much she it wants a puppy and he feels like such an idiot talking to that thing but anything to make this little girl smile

she pulls a little picture book from the backpack hung on the back of her chair and asks him to read with her and he can't just say no!

so he plops down on the tile floor and starts reading out loud and even though she's standing next to him craning her neck to see the pictures he's a head taller than her

when you finish your meeting and head back to the front desk to thank gretchen for watching your kid the sight you see makes your heart absolutely melt

jason and your daughter are sitting criss-cross applesauce on the floor of Wayne Enterprises as he reads to her, and he's pulling out all the stops, he's doing voices, sound effects, and she's giggling so hard she can't sit up straight

but then they both finally notice you

"mommy!" she yells, running to you and wrapping herself around your leg

you're surprised to see him, but definitely not disappointed, and if what you just walked in on indicated anything, it was that you wanted, nay, needed this man

so now you're flushed and hopeful, mind running with possibilities of why he's here; could it be? he couldn't stop thinking about you either? he came all the way to ask you out?

but jason is also surprised, astounded even, by the miniature carbon copy clinging to your leg saying something about scooby snacks

he's freaking out on the inside

through a tight-lipped greeting he excuses himself with what he hopes is a neutral demeanor (spoiler alert: it's not) and goes home to think

and you obviously know exactly what that was about, one doesn't go through pregnancy at 19 without becoming well-acquainted with the whole catalogue of surprised/judgy reactions

of course you're a mess because the early/mid 20s dating scene is hard enough as it is but with a toddler? forget it, might as well just give up now

you go home to call your best friend and get drunk over face time while she assures you that men aint shit and offers to put a curse on him (you consider it, but how are you supposed to get a lock of his hair?)

he's up all night hating himself for being such an asshole and trying to come up with a scenario in which this works, in which he can have you in his life and also a child and be the red hood because he can't stop thinking about you

so then he just says fuck it and the next morning he shows up at your office with flowers and a puppy stuffed animal and finally asks you out

[lubdubology]

When Things Turn Green Again

SYNOPSIS: Hoping to mend the pain of your broken heart and bury the memory of your failed marriage, you turn towards the woods. A cabin was left in your name and it’s the exact distraction you were looking for. What you didn’t anticipate is meeting a quiet, ruggedly handsome man along the way who helps you heal.

PAIRING: Logan x fem!reader

WC: 11k

WARNINGS: smut 18+; mdni; angst; mentions of cheating/divorce; emotional trauma; fluff; sexual innuendos; brief mentions of drinking; dirty talk; slight dom!Logan; oral (f receiving); fingering; doggy style; cock warming; sex with feelings; unprotected p in v

A/N: I pictured either Origins!Logan or Wolverine!Logan, but I think you can envision any Logan you’d prefer. And again thanks to @joelsgoldrush for the support through writing this ❤️ I really do love this piece I wrote and I hope you do too. Feedback is always welcome and appreciated! And thank you to everyone who has read, commented, liked and reblogged both Soft Edges and Til The Sun Turns Black—I never imagined either of those stories reaching over 1k notes.

The gravel crunches under your tires as you roll down the long driveway. Memories bloom deep in your chest as you near the cabin, of times simpler than this, unburdened by trappings of real life. You spent your formative years out here in the woods with your grandfather. Summers spent learning how to fish on the lake; how to recognize the poisonous berries from the nonpoisonous ones; and making fires, roasting marshmallows long after the sun had gone down. 

Your grandfather had helped build this cabin. He’d always preferred the outdoors and solitude from people—with the obvious exception of your grandmother and mother—and he’d often come here to escape. Especially after he lost them both. 

The cabin comes into view through the trees just starting to unfurl their spring foliage. Patches of snow still dot the landscape but the wet brown of winter is losing to spring’s verdant hues. The structure has seen better days, last having been lived in over ten years ago. 

A stab of regret pierces your chest. The cabin was willed to you when your grandfather died, but this was your first trip up here since the funeral. You planned to, of course, but as the old saying goes, life happened. Now, you’re hoping the old place can give you something to sink your energy into besides thinking about your failed marriage. 

You park the truck and step out, surveying the property. The shrubs and flower beds are overgrown and choked with old growth and weeds. Years worth of leaves rest upon the roof and clog the gutters. The front porch has several loose or missing spindles and you’re almost afraid to step up onto the old boards. Proving yourself right, the wood groans and creaks beneath your feet, certain spots threatening to give way.

“That’s going to be a fun project,” you mutter to yourself.

Opening the front door, you’re met with the damp mustiness of a long closed up space. A layer of dust seems to coat nearly every surface and cobwebs linger in the corners. You’re hoping the repairs needed inside the cabin are more cosmetic than costly.

You open up the old blinds, letting the early morning light filter in the room. It’s not a large space, an open kitchen, living room and dinning area with separate bedroom and attached bathroom. A small set of steps leads up to a loft, which also doubles as a sleeping space or bonus area.

You unload your belongings from the truck, tucking them away inside the bedroom, before opening all the windows to let in the fresh air. Thankfully, the glass and protective screens are in relatively good repair—a few need replacing, but an easy enough job. You feel a sense of purpose flourish within you, something you haven’t felt for months and you wonder if this is just the reprieve you need to find yourself again.

+++

You spend the morning taking inventory of the repairs needed around the cabin to make it immediately livable. Jotting down a list of supplies, you hop in your truck and head into town to hit up the hardware store. 

The owner, George, recognizes you from previous trips with your grandfather when you were younger. He greets you warmly and helps you find everything you need. As you’re checking out, he asks, “Run into Logan yet?”

“Logan?”

He nods his head. “Shares a property line with you. Has a cabin of his own just about a quarter mile north of yours. Asked him to keep his eye out on the place.”

“Oh, well, that was nice of him,” you comment, stuffing your receipt in your purse. 

George shrugs. “Figured it would give him something different to do. Doesn’t interact much with people.”

“Guess I’ll just have to introduce myself then,” you say, lifting your bags up off the checkout counter. 

“Good luck with that,” George responds with a huffed laugh. “He’s not one for small talk.” 

You give George a polite smile and leave the store, bags in hand. But the conversation sparks your curiosity and you find yourself thinking of the man who shares the woods with you. You promised yourself once you were settled, you’d make the short hike towards his place and introduce yourself.

Arriving back at the cabin, you park the truck and hop out, stopping short when you spot a lone figure walking around from the back of your property. You can’t stop the prickle of anxiety that zips up your spine as the figure comes closer, but he doesn’t see you yet, his eyes on the ground as he walks.

You shut the truck door with more force than necessary, the sound echoing off the trees. He looks up then and you suck in a short breath as his rugged features come into view—well trimmed but scruffy beard, wild dark hair and a fit muscular frame you can see even under the flannel of his shirt.

Butterflies flutter in your stomach and you can’t remember the last time you’ve felt like this. You can feel a blush creep across your face and you grip the bags in your hands tighter just to feel something other than the hammering of your heart in your chest.

He stops short of where you’re standing and jerks a thumb behind him. “Turned your electrical breaker on,” he says without introduction and you can only stare at him.

“Oh,” you say dumbly. “I, uh—thanks.”

He tilts his head and looks at you and you feel like you’re on fire under his glare. It’s an inquisitive one, like he can’t quite figure out what you’re doing in a place like this and you shift uncomfortably under his gaze. And yet, you don’t want him to stop looking at you. 

“Right,” he says, reaching into the pocket of his jeans for something. He fishes out a key and holds it in your direction. “This is yours.”

You shift the bags, so you’re holding them all in one hand and reach for the key. Your fingertips brush against his just briefly, but it’s enough to set sparks along your skin and you can feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. As he steps back from you, you blurt out your name and then immediately wish for a swift death at your awkwardness. 

God, this was embarrassing. 

It’s like you’ve never interacted with humans before.

He gives the barest hint of a smile. “Logan.”

“Nice to meet you, Logan,” you say, just so you can taste his name in your mouth.

Logan nods and turns to head down the path that leads away from your cabin and deeper into the woods. You watch him go, his figure fading further into the distance and you can’t help but think, I’m in trouble. 

+++

You spend the rest of the day keeping busy around the cabin—wiping down dusty surfaces, sweeping up cobwebs, replacing broken light bulbs—but your mind never strays far from Logan and the inexplicable pull you have towards him. 

You’ve dated. You were married. You weren’t a stranger to the opposite sex and physical attraction, but this felt like more. Like an unavoidable pull between you and him and you’ve just been spun into his orbit. 

And that attraction terrifies you. 

Over the next few days, you try and shove him from your mind. It helps that you haven’t seen him again, but your eyes inevitably dart towards the path leading away from your cabin as if you’re expecting him to come walking through. 

Then, the idea comes to you late one night as you’re sitting in front of the fire, watching the flames lick higher. No matter how hard you had tried, Logan remained firmly planted in your mind, his roots stubborn and unyielding. 

Your grandfather always said your grandmother’s cooking was always something that warmed his heart. 

But as you walk the small path towards Logan’s property you briefly wonder if you’ve lost your mind. You carry the small pie dish in your hands and as his cabin grows closer you’re actually contemplating turning back and forgetting the whole thing.

Who the hell bakes pies for people any more?

His cabin is smaller than yours, a little more rustic and worn, which seems fitting based on the little you know about him. Several piles of firewood line the roofed porch and at the opposite end, a single chair and table sit in front of the window. With one last shaky inhale, you climb the steps and rap your knuckles against the door. From inside you hear heavy footfalls and then the door opens.

Logan looks down at you and then towards the dish in your hands, an odd expression crossing his handsome features.

“I made you a pie,” you blurt unceremoniously and you instantly wish for the ground to open up and swallow you whole.

Logan just continues to stare at you and you think you see the slightest twitch at the corner of his mouth. But maybe not.

“I, uh, my grandfather lived in the cabin next to yours and it’s mine now. I’m fixing it up, because…well, just because and he taught me to pick berries as a kid? So, I did that and I made you this,” you finish in a ramble, flames of embarrassment licking across your skin.

Jesus fucking Christ.

His eyes flick down at the dish in your hands again and you hold it up a bit higher, nudging it closer towards him. As he reaches out to take it, his fingers brush against yours and you again feel electricity tingle down your fingertips. If he notices it too, he says nothing, not that he’s said anything since you showed up on his porch. 

Logan tucks the dish closer to his body and gives you a slight nod. You take that as a good sign and step back to leave. “Okay, cool, cool. Well, um, enjoy. I made sure all he berries were the edible ones so you don’t end up throwing up everywhere.”

At that he actually huffs a chuckle. “Good to know,” he finally says, his voice warm and rich and just a bit gruff.

“Right, well, enjoy!” You turn to leave and can feel his stare against your back and it takes all your remaining functioning brain cells to walk normally.

You spend the next few days trying to forget all about your ill-fated attempt to play neighbor, figuring if he didn’t want to know you before, he definitely didn’t after that. 

You’re coming back from a hike when you spot Logan through the trees walking away from your place, hands tucked deep within his pockets. Your heart quickens in your chest as you walk up to the front door and find the baking dish sitting on the old welcome mat. It’s freshly washed with a folded up piece of paper sitting inside—Thank you.

You’re certain your smile could rival the light from the sun.

+++

It becomes a routine over the next few weeks—you bringing him food and him returning the dish, all without exchanging any words. You’re thankful he’s not much of a talker because you can’t seem to stop making a fool of yourself around him. 

And you don’t know why. 

He’s a handsome man, that anyone can see, but you’ve never been so flustered around a beautiful man before.

There’s something else about Logan you can’t pinpoint that sets your heart fluttering behind your ribs. He seems lonely in the same way you are, and you wonder if he’s out here to lick and heal old wounds just like you. You have an inexplicable want to help him, even if that means sharing your food leftovers with him and trying to chip away at the wall that surrounds him. 

A part of you is hoping he can help break down your walls, too. 

You’re waist deep under the kitchen sink when a knock on the door drags you from fixing the leaking drain. 

“Ah, fuck,” you curse, trying to maneuver out of the space while also not spilling the stagnant water left in the sink trap. As you set the old drain down you call out, “Just a second!”

You wipe your hands against your thighs and swing the door open to find Logan standing there, your glass baking dish from yesterday in his hands. For a second you blink silently at him, unable to think of anything but the fact that you’re wearing grease stained overalls and probably smell like a swamp. 

“Logan, hi,” you finally say, brushing your hair out of your face. 

He gives you a strange look as he hands the dish back to you. You open your mouth to speak when he interrupts you, “Why do you feed me?”

His question hangs in the air and you freeze. Of all the things he could have asked, you weren’t sure why you didn’t expect that one. His voice is a little gruff, but underneath there’s something that makes your heart race. Something vulnerable. 

You swallow and grip the edge of the glass dish. Logan stares at you, his gaze intense, and you feel exposed. Like he’s trying to dissect you with just a look. 

“Oh, well, I don’t know,” you finally admit. “You just…seem like you could use some kindness.”

He raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t say anything else. The silence stretches between you, heavy and charged, and you can feel your pulse quicken. “I can stop if—if you want.”

“No,” he says, his voice rough, but with an undercurrent of tenderness. “No, you don’t have to stop. Just not used to people doin’ things like that for me.”

His admission catches you off guard being the first real piece of personal information he’s shared with you. You’ve gleaned certain things from George—he’s told you about Logan being a mutant and a few pieces of his past—but you know there’s still a world of history hiding behind his loner facade that he keeps hidden. You’re hoping eventually he lets you take a peak inside.

“Everyone deserves kindness, Logan,” you say. 

His gaze flickers, a shadow of something crossing his features that makes your heart ache. He shifts on his feet and stares down at the dish in your hands. “I’m not so sure of that,” he replies. 

“Well, I am.”

Logan’s eyes drag back up to yours and you try to calm the nervous energy that bubbles under your skin as his stare presses into you. He gives you a small nod then before turning to leave. 

He pauses as he hits your driveway and looks back at you, cursing lowly to himself. Scratching at the back of his head, he walks back up the steps and pulls something out of the pocket of his jacket. “I, uh, here,” he says uncertainly as he hands you the small cloth bag. 

You can only stare as you take the bag from him, the gift surprisingly light in your hand, but the gesture heavy with unspoken emotion. Your mind races as you think of what could be inside and your heart hammers loudly in your chest. 

Logan stands there, eyes not quite meeting yours as he waits for you to open it. Your fingers tremble slightly as you undo the drawstrings and peer inside, finding a mixture of different seeds. You can’t help but trail your fingers through them, feeling the faint warmth they hold from where they were nestled against Logan’s body. 

“Oh, Logan,” you murmur, your voice thick with emotion. 

You glance up at him and he’s looking at you, scratching at his beard, the faintest hint of blush staining his cheeks. “They’re wildflowers. Don’t know what kind. But, I dunno. I thought you could use them for your garden.” 

Your chest tightens as you pull the strings close and tuck the bag in your pocket. “I love them, Logan,” you say, offering him a smile. “Thank you.”

For a moment, you see the tension in his shoulders relax just a bit as he exhales. “Just seemed like something you’d appreciate,” he mumbles, more to himself than to you. 

Something has shifted between you and you find yourself itching to touch him, but you don’t. Not yet. The thread holding you two together is there, but thin, and you don’t want it to fray. “I really do appreciate it,” you say softly, stepping just the tiniest bit closer. 

Logan nods and his mouth tugs into something that’s not quite a smile, but close. He looks at you for a long moment, the weight of his gaze pressing into you. “Okay. Good.” Shoving his hands in his pockets, he turns and jogs down the steps. 

“Guess I’ll see you around then,” you call after him, a smile spreading across your face. 

He glances back over his shoulder. “Yeah. I guess you will.”

And maybe, just maybe, the walls around him are beginning to crumble. 

+++

Sweat beads across your brow as you work, but you pay it no heed. Your attention keeps slipping to Logan as you pry another nail loose from the rotted board. You’ve fallen into an odd relationship with the elusive man whose property line you share, yet you still barely know anything about him.

It’s been a week since he stopped by and gave you those wildflower seeds. A warmth still spreads in your chest when you think about it. And true to his promise, you do see him around, albeit not as much as you’d like. He seems wary, as if his gift opened up a part of himself he wasn’t ready for you to see.

But at least he doesn’t drop off your clean dishes and run anymore. 

As you pry the last nail free, the rotten board comes free and you toss it down onto the grass along with the others. Thankfully, the porch isn’t terribly large and you figure another hour or so to remove the remaining boards before you can start laying down fresh lumber. 

The crunch of gravel pulls you from your work and you look up to find Logan walking down the path, a large leather bag in his hand. You look up at him, wiping the sweat off your brow and lean back onto your heels, trying your best not to stare at his forearms.

“Oh, hey, Logan,” you say, wiping your hands against your jeans as you stand. “What brings you to my side of the woods?”

He actually smiles at you and nods towards the porch. “Need help?”

You hate the little flutter you feel pressing against your ribs. “I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

“Well, it’s good thing you’re not asking. I’m offering.”

You blink, caught off guard by his directness. “Oh, well, if you insist,” you say, trying to calm your nerves. “It would be nice to have a second set of hands.”

He sets the leather bag down on the porch with a thud and you catch a glimpse of the tools nestled inside. Logan notices you looking and comments, “I know a few things.” His smirk makes your legs feel like jello. 

“Oh, I bet you know a lot of things,” you blurt, and your eyes widen at the double entendre of your words, heat flushing across your face. 

Logan laughs, a real laugh, his eyes crinkling. “Well, it’s always good to be well educated,” he says with a wink.

Fuck, you feel like you’re going to spontaneously combust. 

Shoving down your raging embarrassment, you lay out your plan to fix the porch and Logan gives a small nod. He starts at the opposite end, prying loose the first board with ease. You try not to stare at the way his muscles move and how his skin begins to slick with the first beads of sweat. You work in silence for a while, the only sounds those of the forest around you. 

“So, what actually brought you out here?” Logan finally asks. 

You glance over at him and watch as he tosses another board onto the grass. He looks at you expectantly and you sigh. “I got divorced,” you answer honestly. “And I needed something pour my energy into other than wondering where the fuck I went wrong.”

You can’t bring yourself to look at him, your openness leaving you feeling raw, and instead focus on the board in front of you. Anger begins to simmer in your veins at the thought of the last couple of years and you grab the next plank with just enough force to wedge a splinter deep into your palm. A loud curse falls from your lips as you drop the board. 

You feel Logan next to you and you suck in a deep breath as he reaches for your hand, his fingers curling around yours. “Lemme see,” he says, pulling you close and you can smell the earthiness of him, like damp soil and campfire smoke. You find yourself staring at him, his proximity intoxicating, as you drink in his long lashes and the slope of his nose. 

He tilts your palm towards himself, his fingers pressing gently yet with firm enough pressure to push the splinter out of your skin. Pulling it out the rest of the way, his eyes flick up to yours. “Somehow I don’t think you’re the one that fucked up, sweetheart.” His voice is warm and you want to melt into him. 

“Well,” you start, clearing your throat, “I certainly wasn’t fucking his mistresses.” 

Something in his eyes darkens and a shiver runs down your spine. “He’s a fool for losin’ you,” he growls, and his words hit you with more force than you’d care to admit. 

His hand still lingers on yours, steady and reassuring and warm and for a moment you think he might lean closer. You desperately want him to. To press his mouth against yours, to feel his breath against your skin, to have his taste against your tongue. But he pulls back, his expression one of thin control, but you can see the storm behind his gaze. 

“A damn fool,” he mutters under his breath and you can’t help but wonder if he’s talking about himself or your ex. 

Logan lets your hand go, turning back towards the porch and you mourn the loss, your skin still tingling from the contact. You swallow hard, trying to shake off the intensity of the moment. It’s Logan—quiet, gruff Logan, who never really sticks around for a real conversation and yet here he is, offering help and showing that maybe he’s not entirely as unaffected by you as you thought. 

Your heartbeat drums in your ears as you watch him go back to work, prying up the next board, his muscles flexing beneath his worn shirt. His jaw clenches and there’s a focused determination in his movements and you can’t tell if he’s working out some anger or trying to keep himself in check.

You work in silence for several more minutes, the only sounds being the prying of loose boards and creaking lumber. There’s a tension between you now, more so than there was before, something palpable. 

It’s enough to drive you mad.

“What about you?” you finally ask, your voice somewhat hesitant. “You don’t talk about yourself much.”

Logan glances at you from the corner of his eye and his brow furrows, as if he’s weighing whether or not to answer. “Not much to tell,” he grunts, pulling up another board with more force than necessary.

“Somehow, I doubt that. You don’t just wake up one day alone in the woods with forearms like that.” 

Logan looks over at you and smirks. “Maybe I’m just really good with my hands.” His voice dips low and you can’t help the warmth that pools low in your belly at his words.

You swallow, your throat suddenly dry. “Yeah, no…yep. I’m starting to figure that out.”

He’s silent for a few moments as he goes back to work and the air between you hums with something charged. “You really want to know?” he asks, his voice rough. “I’ve been around for too long, longer than anyone should. Done things I’m not proud of.” He tosses another plank aside and all you can do it watch him. “I’ve…I’ve hurt people I care about. People I’ve cared about have hurt me. I’m not really sure I belong anywhere, so I just…drift.”

There’s something raw in his voice, something broken and vulnerable, and it catches you off guard. For all his outward strength, there’s man deep down inside who’s lost, and your heart aches for him.

“You belong here,” you say softly. 

He doesn’t look at you, but you can feel the tension shift as the weight of your words settle between you. Another board gets tossed aside. “Yeah, maybe.”

He finally raises his gaze to yours and for a moment the world quiets—the forest, the porch, all of it—as his eyes lock onto yours and his expression softens. You offer him a warm smile and then return back to the porch, hesitant to push him any further. 

You work comfortably together after that. The old boards removed, Logan helps you place and nail down the new ones. Your conversation is limited to the project, but you don’t mind. 

As Logan packs up his tools, you glance over at him. “Thank you.”

A half smile plays at the corner of his mouth. “You’re welcome,” comes his reply as he steps off the porch and heads down the path back towards his cabin. 

“Logan!” you call, lightly jogging after him before he slips out of view. He pauses and turns back towards you. “Can I make you dinner?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Haven’t you already been doin’ that?”

“No,” you say shaking your head, “I mean, yes, I have, but like a proper dinner? Fresh from kitchen to table. I can come by you, if you’d like.”

Logan studies you for a moment, his gaze intense and you can feel your heart beating against your ribs. He’s silent for so long you wonder if you’ve overstepped and you open your mouth to speak when he says, “Alright. Come by tomorrow, six o’clock.”

You can’t stop the smile that spreads across your face. “Tomorrow it is.”

+++

You’re up before the sun, your nerves a tangle of raw edges. You lay there, staring at the ceiling  and wondering what the fuck you’ve gotten yourself into. 

You weren’t expecting to meet someone out here in the woods. You were hoping for tranquility, a distraction to quiet the voice in your head that kept nagging you for how your life veered off course. That maybe if you worked more, did more, loved more you wouldn’t be a thirty year old divorcee. 

Instead, you find a mysterious man who sparks within you a flame you long thought extinguished. A ruggedly handsome man who’s somehow wormed his way into your life and has you wondering if maybe he can’t help mend the pieces of your broken heart. 

Except you don’t know if that same spark is ignited within him and if his gesture of dinner is simple kindness. A response to the kindness you’ve shown him over the last two months or if he’s feeling that same attraction you do. 

God, you hope he does. 

You spend the morning cleaning, trying to pour your nervous energy into something productive other than worrying about what the evening may bring. Driving into town, you agonize over what to make even though he’s been eating what you’ve made without complaint for weeks now. You opt to keep it simple—pasta with homemade meat sauce, a nice loaf of bread and a couple bottles of wine. 

While the sauce is simmering on the stove you get ready. You dress for comfort, a simple pair of leggings and a flowy top that hangs slightly off your shoulders.  You catch your reflection in the mirror and give yourself a silent nod of encouragement. Despite this just being dinner, the night brims with the possibility of maybe something more. 

Once the food is prepared, you carefully pack everything in a large basket and begin the walk to Logan’s cabin. The night is cool, but still holds the warmth of day and the promise of summer to come. You feel your anticipation heighten the closer you get to his place and your stomach drops when you see it appear up ahead. 

It’s just Logan, you remind yourself. 

Stepping up onto his porch, you give a hesitant knock at the door. He greets you almost instantly and you suck in a deep breath. Logan looks good and your heart does a flip as you take him in—well fitting jeans, a clean white shirt underneath a soft red flannel button down, his hair is still slightly damp from a shower. 

“You’re early,” he comments, standing aside to let you in. You catch the slight frown tug at his mouth as he notices the basket. “You coulda cooked here, you know.”

“Oh, well, I didn’t know if you’d want me invading your space,” you reply, following him deeper into the cabin and setting the basket down on the counter. 

Logan turns back towards you, bracing his hands against the counter. “I don’t mind you in my space.”

His words hang in the air between you and you can feel your pulse quicken. You glance up at him, and the way he’s looking at you—steady and unflinching—sends a thrill down your spine. 

You clear your throat, trying to settle the nerves in your chest. “Next time then,” you say lightly, hoping he can’t hear the slight waver in your voice. 

Logan’s lips quirk into a half smile. “Next time,” he agrees. 

He reaches into a cabinet above him, pulling down a couple of plates and glasses, setting a small table in the corner of the small kitchen. You keep yourself busy unpacking the food, arranging the bread, pasta and sauce on the table, working around him as he uncorks the wine and pours both of you a glass. 

Logan joins you then, raising his glass and clinking it gently against yours. He nods in a silent cheers and tips his head back as he drinks, his eyes never leaving yours. You can’t suppress the shiver that shoots down your spine.

Setting down his glass, he serves you and then himself, commenting, “This smells amazing.”

“Family recipe,” you reply, taking another sip wine. “Remind me to make it for you when I have fresh tomatoes. It’s even better then.”

“I’ll have to do that,” he says with a smile.

Conversation starts off slow, but not awkward, as you both test the limits of what you’re wiling to share. Logan’s answers are often short, reserved, but what he does reveal helps bring into focus the outline of the man before you. An outline you’re hoping he’ll let you fill in.

“George says you’re a mutant,” you start slowly and you don’t miss the way his posture stiffens, his fork scraping harshly against the plate. 

He goes still and you wonder if you fucked up. Crossed a boundary he wasn’t willing to cross.

Eventually, Logan’s eyes flick up to yours and he lets out a small hum. “He did, did he?”

You nod, chewing. “It doesn’t bother me.”

He’s quiet for a beat. “It bothers most people.”

“I’m not most people,” you reply, your voice soft. 

Something in his face softens then, the furrow of his brow a little less pronounced. A slight smile plays at his lips. “No. No you’re not.”

You feel a warmth bloom in your chest and your face flushes. Taking another bite, you ask, “Can I see?”

Logan studies you for a moment and you can see him deciding whether or not to show you that part of him he’d rather keep hidden. He sets the silverware down and he flexes his fingers before resting his palms back on the table. Then, he unsheathes his claws and you can’t stop the gasp that falls from your lips. 

You see him flinch at your reaction and he goes to retract his claws and you reach for him. “Don’t,” you say, your fingers hovering just above the blades. 

As he relaxes, you gently rest your fingertips against the metal, finding it surprisingly cool but still holding a faint warmth from his body. His eyes drop to where you’re touching him as you slowly begin to trace each blade with your fingers, following the slight curve down to where they emerge from his skin. You look up at him, finding his gaze fixed on you and you shiver under the intensity. 

“They’re beautiful,” you whisper. You feel him shudder beneath you as he retracts his claws, leaving your fingertips nestled against the skin between his knuckles. 

You pull your hand away from his, mourning the loss of his skin against yours. Logan clears his throat and pulls his hands into his lap, glancing down at them as if they’re foreign, something he’s never taken the time to notice before. He flexes his fingers once more before dragging his gaze back to your face.

“Do they hurt?” you ask quietly.

He shakes his head. “No. Not anymore.”

“Thank you,” you say quietly. “Thank you for showing me.”

Logan studies you for a long moment, searching your face like he’s trying to figure you out. You know he’s probably not used to this, someone seeing him as something other than a mutant, an aberration, someone who should be hidden away. Then, his face softens.

“People don’t usually ask,” he says quietly.

You smile gently, feeling that flame inside you burn just a bit brighter. “I just want to know you.”

He leans back in his chair, his gaze still steady, but more open, as if some of those invisible walls he surrounds himself with have started to come down. If only just enough to let the light shine through. 

An unspoken tension simmers, thickening the air, and you know he can feel it too, but it’s not uncomfortable. It’s heavy with promise. You turn your attention back to your plate and for a few moments, neither of you speak.

“So,” you say after a beat, “Do you ever use them as forks?”

Logan huffs out a laugh, the sound surprising you and his eyes crinkle in genuine amusement. “I can’t say that I have,” he replies with a smile.

You grin. “You should give it a try.”

“If I do, you’ll be the first to know.”

The rest of dinner passes with easy conversation and you feel your nerves begin to settle, just a bit. Logan seems less guarded too, more at ease than you’ve ever seen him.

You help him clear the table, ignoring his request that you just sit and relax. As you stand next to him, emptying the leftovers into a container, you feel his eyes on you. When you hand him the container, your fingers brush again, but this time he doesn’t immediately pull away. His fingers linger just a bit longer than necessary and your breath catches in your throat.

“Thanks for dinner, he says quietly, voice low. “And for…understanding.”

You nod, feeling that unmistakable pull between you, the tug that’s kept you orbiting closer and closer to him. “Anytime, Logan,” you answer softly. “You don’t have to hide from me.”

There’s a flicker of hesitation in his eyes, like he’s been burned before and is still figuring out if he can trust what you’re offering him. And you understand his turmoil, trust having shattered your heart into pieces, pieces you’re still trying to pick up and reshape. 

Logan steps a little bit closer then and before you can say anything else, his hand gently reaches out and tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. The gesture is simple but intimate and it sends a shiver down your spine, heat pooling lowly in your belly.

“C’mon,” he says. “Let me walk you home.”

He grabs your basket before you can protest and you follow him out into the night. There’s a full moon hanging heavy in the sky, illuminating the path in front of you, yet you remain close to Logan. You curse to yourself as you trip over an exposed root and then you feel Logan reach out for you, his fingers wrapping securely around your own. The heat of his palm against yours is almost overwhelming.

Your cabin comes into view and Logan slows, his fingers slipping from your grasp as he sets the basket down on the porch.

“Good night, Logan,” you say softly as you walk up the steps. 

As you turn from him, he reaches for your wrist, his fingers curling and pressing hotly against your skin. Your breath hitches as he climbs the steps to join you on the porch, and your gasps dies in your throat as he tilts your chin up and forces you to meet his gaze. 

“Do I make you nervous?” His voice is low, breath hot and damp against your skin. 

“Yes,” you breathe, somehow inching closer to him, your fingers reaching for the hem of his flannel and twisting into the fabric. 

“Why?” He brushes his nose against yours and you chase after the touch. 

Swallowing hard, you look up at him from under your lashes. You tilt further into him, your mouth hovering just over his. “Because I haven’t felt like this in a very long time and I don’t want it to go away.” Don’t want you to go away. 

Logan nods and whispers, “I’m not goin’ anywhere.” And then he presses his mouth to yours. 

It’s soft, barely a hint of skin against skin, but when you whisper, “Please,” against his lips, Logan growls and then he’s everywhere. His kiss claims you, his tongue licking in your mouth and you whimper as his fingers curl along the nape of your neck somehow pulling you impossibly closer. 

You wind your arms around his shoulders, your fingers tangling in the short strands at the back of his head. Your entire world is focused down to the feel of his lips on yours and the press of his fingers against your jaw as he pulls you towards his hungry mouth. 

Logan’s grip on you tightens, one hand splayed across your lower back and the other pressed firmly between your shoulder blades, anchoring you to him. The heat between you is palpable, each movement of his lips setting you further aflame. You lose track of time, lost in the sensation of his beard scraping against your skin, leaving a tingling trail in its wake.

When he finally pulls back, you’re both breathless and his forehead rests against yours, your shared breaths mingling in the space between you. His eyes are dark and intense as they search your face and you feel untethered, Logan being the only thing keeping you grounded.

“You okay?” he asks, voice rough, but surprisingly tender as his thumb traces along the line of your jaw.

You nod, swallowing the lump that’s formed in your throat. You don’t trust yourself to speak.

His lips quirk into a small smile. “Good.” He brushes a stray strand of hair away from your cheek, his hand lingering at the side of your face. He presses one last soft kiss to the corner of your mouth before he steps back and walks down the path back home.

+++

You can’t stop thinking about the kiss—Logan’s lips against yours, the taste of his tongue, the press of his hands against your skin, hot and heavy, yet gentle. 

You want to live in that moment forever. Want to know only his kisses for the rest of your life, for him to be the first person you kiss good morning and the last person you kiss goodnight. For him to kiss you just because he can, because he misses you, because he can’t get the feel of your mouth out of his mind and he needs to feel you again pressing against him. 

You also want to run away, hide yourself from these emotions that are overwhelming you and leaving you feeling raw and exposed and absolutely terrified. You haven’t kissed another man in two years and he broke your heart, leaving nothing but shattered pieces and dust in his wake. Dust that still clings to you despite your best efforts to sweep it up. Those pieces of your heart are still sharp, jagged where they should be smooth. 

You’ve always been trusting, choosing to see the light in others as opposed the darkness. Believing deep down that everyone deserves kindness, deserves a second chance, that one bad deed does not a bad person make. But he stole a part of that from you and you hate him for it. Hate that even now, after all this time, he’s able to worm his way into your brain and make you question the motives of the man who’s made you feel more alive than you have in months. 

Last night you felt unshackled, unbound by the fear that had chained you for so long. You felt as if Logan’s very touch, his presence, had set your soul on fire and instead of fearing the burn, you were ready to embrace the warmth. 

But now, raw contempt begins to simmer in your veins and you need something to pour your frustration into before it threatens to consume you whole. 

Throwing your hair up into a messy bun and throwing on a paint-stained shirt and ripped jeans, you head outside looking for a project to sink fingers into. In the small shed behind the cabin, you find a few gardening supplies—a small shovel, trowel, bow rake—and you drag them out and to the overgrown flower beds.

You don’t even bother with the tools at first, ripping at the dead growth with your bare hands, pulling it from the earth in great clumps and tossing it aside. Your pulse beats loudly in your ears as you move from bed to bed, clawing away the old growth, your breathing growing ragged and your palms staining with dirt.

Grabbing the rake, you dig at the remaining plants, tearing at the roots, destroying the new growth. Tears run hotly down your face, blurring your vision and your throat aches from force of your breathing and screams you’ve been holding back.

From behind you, you hear the sound of your name and you whip around so quickly, the rake goes flying from your hands. You can hear the snikt of Logan’s claws as they unsheathe and the splintering of wood as he deflects the rake flying at him. It clatters to the ground between you as he retracts his claws and looks at you, his brow furrowed in concern.

You wonder, then, exactly what you look like in that moment. Dirt caked on your hands and under your fingernails, cheeks flushed with exertion, hair a halo of disarray. The pure adrenaline you’d been running on wanes and your limbs suddenly feel heavy and you sink to the ground in front of him. You can’t bring yourself to look at him, because you’re afraid of what you’ll see.

Logan approaches you slowly, kneeling down in front of you and gently raising your chin to look up at him. The stark worry etched on his face makes you ache and fresh tears burn in your eyes. You wipe at your eyes, which only serves to smear dirt across your face.

“I’m terrified, Logan,” you whisper, wanting to reach for him, but afraid to touch him. “I terrified of how much I like you.”

“You scare me too,” he confesses softly and your heart breaks.

He leans closer, fingers resting hesitantly against your knees. You reach for him too, grabbing on to the open sides of his jacket and pulling him to you. Logan doesn’t flinch, doesn’t push back and instead envelopes you into his arms, your head resting against the solid warmth of his chest. 

Safe in his arms, you cry. Harsh, broken sobs as he rubs your back, the soft caress of his fingers along your spine anchoring you to him as he holds you. He murmurs into your hair that he’s got you, to let it all out, and you do.

Eventually, you calm and sigh, pressing your forehead against his chest, loathe to move just yet. “I’m broken, Logan,” you mumble into his shirt. You look up at him then, the softness and concern on his face making you physically ache. “I still have broken pieces where I should be whole.”

Slowly, tentatively, he brings his hands up to your face, cupping your cheeks in his hands. His thumbs brush at the dirt and tears under your eyes and he smoothes the hair away from your forehead. “Maybe some of my pieces fit,” he says, voice low, but steady. 

His words send a flood of emotion through you, and for a moment, all you can do is stare at him. Then the gravity of what he’s saying hits you—he’s offering you himself, all his jagged and scarred pieces, the pieces no one else sees.

The pieces he wants you to see.

You lean forward, pressing the lightest of kisses against the corner of his mouth. His sigh is hot against your cheek, but he doesn’t press further. 

“Thank you,” you whisper into his skin and somehow it feels like the most important thing you’ve ever said.

“C’mon,” he says, “Let me help you get this cleaned up.”

You nod, wiping your nose with the back of your hand.  Logan stands, offering you his hand. You take it, your fingers slipping into his and his grip is steady, yet gentle as he helps you up. 

Without a word, Logan grabs the broken rake and begins removing the debris from the beds you laid waste to. You watch him work for a moment before joining in, pulling the weeds from the beds you hadn’t gotten to yet. Every now and then your eyes meet, but you don’t say anything. You don’t feel the need to fill the space with words, his presence beside you speaking volumes more than he could ever say. 

After a while, Logan pauses and looks over at you, wiping the dirt from his hands into his jeans. “You still got those seeds I gave you?”

“Of course I do.”

“Go get ‘em,” he says nodding towards the cabin. “We’ll plant something new.”

You retrieve the small pouch where you’ve kept it safe and come out to find Logan kneeling in the dirt, his fingers making small pockets of earth to house the new flowers. He looks up at you, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. You join him on the ground, dropping a few seeds in each well as he moves to create the next one. 

“I’m not very good at this,” Logan starts, covering the last well with dirt, “but I promise I won’t break you. You don’t gotta be scared of me.”

He looks at you then, his hazel eyes meeting yours and you reach for his hand, your thumb brushing across his dirt stained knuckles. 

“No,” you reply with a smile, “I don’t think I do.”

+++

It’s been three days since that moment with Logan in the garden and the air between you has been quiet. Logan hasn’t come by the cabin, but you hadn’t sought him out either. You weren’t avoiding him, exactly. More a need for space, a chance to process the feelings you felt for him, to test if you were truly ready to open yourself up to him.

Your mind never strays far from him, though. An almost constant loop plays in your brain of the way he held you, the way he spoke, the quiet promise he made not to break you. There’s a large part of you that believes him; your heart is screaming at you shed your lingering doubt and trust him, but your rational brain is grasping desperately to the kernel of truth that vows can be broken. 

So you turn to what you do best—pour your energy into other things. The cabin is spotless now, cleaned of disuse and age, turned into a cozy place of retreat, a simple shelter turned into a home. And yet…

You’re sitting on the porch, watching the sun dip lower in the sky, the book you’d been trying to read long forgotten. The forest is peaceful, alive with the sounds of early summer. But as calming as it is, you can’t ignore the ache in your chest—you miss him. More than you thought possible.

Just as you’re about to stand, the sound of boots against gravel catches your attention. You look up and there he is—Logan. His hands are shoved deep into the pockets of his worn jacket as he walks up the path. His look is cautious, as if he’s unsure whether or not you’ll accept his presence. 

Your heart skips a beat and you stand, wiping your palms against your jeans as he draws closer. His hazel eyes meet yours and there’s something softer about him, something open.

He stops a few feet away from you, gaze steady. “I wasn’t sure if I should come by.” His voice is still gruff, but quieter than usual. “If you needed space or not.”

“I did, need space. But not from you,” you clarify. You take a hesitant step towards him. “I missed you.”

Logan sighs then, his posture relaxing just slightly. “I wanted so badly to see you. I didn’t know if I should stay away.”

Before you can second guess yourself, you step down from the porch, closing the distance between you. You stand in front of him, noticing the faint lines of tension around his mouth, the way his jaw is clenched as if bracing himself for your rejection. 

“Don’t stay away,” you say softly, “I want you here.”

You reach for him, your fingers brushing against his hands as you pull them from his pockets. Logan doesn’t pull away and the warmth of his skin against yours feels like the most natural thing in the world. You feel it then, that familiar pull—the one that’s been there since the beginning, drawing you closer and closer into his orbit, his sun.

You brush your thumbs across his knuckles and look up at him. “You wanna come inside?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll make you something to eat?”

Logan nods, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Yeah. Yeah, I’d like that.”

As you lead him inside, something in the air between you shifts, something subtle. But you know one thing for certain—you’re not afraid anymore. Not of this.

+++

The sun has set, the food long gone and as Logan’s hand reaches for the front door, you slip in front of him. His scent overwhelms you, that earthy dampness you’ve come to associate with him flooding your senses. 

“What if you stayed?” you ask, the slight waver in your voice betraying your boldness. 

You watch as his eyes darken and he leans even further into your space. “Do you know what you’re asking, sweetheart?” he replies, eyes searching your face. 

Swallowing, you nod. “I do,” you whisper. 

Then you slide your arms around his waist, pulling him closer as you lean in and kiss the hollow of his throat. You can feel him swallow hard beneath your lips and you smirk into his skin as you drag your mouth higher, over the long column of his neck to nip at the corner of his jaw. 

“Stay,” you murmur in his ear.

Logan turns, his nose brushing against your cheek as he seeks your mouth and you inhale deeply as his lips find yours. His fingers wind themselves into your hair, resting against the nape of your neck as he pulls you closer. You whimper into his mouth when he pulls back, eyes blown black.

“Show me where,” he says, his voice low.

You lead him up the stairs, his hand warm in yours and you barely make it to the top before Logan’s spinning you around, mouth finding yours. His is kiss is demanding, so different from that first one all those nights ago. This is urgent and desperate, like he can’t possibly get you close enough to satisfy the need deep within him. And you feel it too, pouring yourself back equally into the kiss, moaning as his tongue finally slips alongside yours. 

Your fingers fumble along the top of his jeans, pulling his shirt from where it’s tucked and sliding your hands up along the sides of his ribs. He rewards you with a deep groan of his own, nipping slightly at your bottom lip.

“Christ, sweetheart,” he rumbles against your lips, kissing you once, twice, “I’ve been dyin’ to feel your hands on me.”

“Me, too,” you reply, gasping as his hands find the hem of your shirt, lifting it just enough to brush his fingers hotly along your skin. 

Logan pulls back just enough to look down at your face, his fingers still clutching the fabric of your shirt, but lifting it just a bit higher. His gaze is questioning, asking for silent permission to continue. You nod once and he slowly drags the shirt up, his fingers skimming along your sides, over the swells of your breasts as he pulls the shirt over your head. 

Despite the heat coursing through your veins, you shiver under the intensity of his stare. He kisses you again, inhaling deeply, before moving down, nipping over your chin, your throat, in between your breasts. 

Logan’s hands follow his mouth, running a trail from your shoulders, down long your spine, easily flicking open the clasp of your bra on the way. He glances up at you as he moves to pull the straps aside, dragging them down your arms. 

“Do you know how beautiful you are?” he asks, his hands coming up to cup your breasts, thumbs fanning out across your nipples.

A jolt of pleasure shoots down your spine and pools low in your belly. You feel like you might spontaneously catch on fire and he’s barely touched you. You can’t remember ever feeling like this when a man has touched you, so consumed by want and need.

His fingers trail lower, brushing along the top of your jeans, popping open the button. You grab for his hand, stopping him. You see the concern flicker across his face and you smile. “Your turn,” you say, sliding your palms up his chest and pushing the flannel from his shoulders, his shirt following suit.

You revel in his muscular physique, your fingers tracing along his collarbones, down over the broad planes of his chest, feeling the wiry hair beneath your fingertips. His muscles flutter beneath your touch as you follow the trail of hair lower, down to the vee between his hips. 

Logan’s arousal is evident by the tenting of his jeans, and your eyes locked on his, you dip lower, giving the faintest of caresses over the fabric.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he curses. “Take your pants off.”

It’s a command, not an ask, and one you’re more than willing to comply with. 

Nervous energy licks at your skin as your fingers tuck into the waistband of your jeans and pull them down. Logan follows your lead, unbuckling his belt and shoving his jeans over his hips, kicking them aside. His cock juts out proudly, thick and heavy, nestled in a bed of hair.

Logan’s on you before you can kick away the last leg, hoisting you up under your thighs and forcing you to wrap your legs around his hips. His palms are hot against your ass and you can feel his cock trapped between you. 

He moves you both to the bed, setting you down before crawling over you and slotting himself between your thighs. Leaning back on his heels, he stares down at you, skin flushed. He kisses you softly once, before dragging a single finger down the center of your chest, hooking it into the waistband of your panties. 

“What do you like?” he asks lowly, eyes boring into yours.

You stare at him, unable to comprehend his question as he slides his finger back and forth across your skin. Electric sparks of anticipation crawl up your spine and you can feel the rapid flutter of your heart against your ribs. 

“You want me to touch you with my fingers?” His voice is low, so low and you shiver. 

Your mouth has gone dry and you can only nod. 

“You want me to touch you with my mouth?” Logan leans down, skimming his lips across your collarbone, nipping lightly. 

Your fingers stutter across his shoulders and wind themselves into his hair. Logan’s smirk presses into the corner of your jaw. “Want me to touch you with both?”

“Please,” you whine into his neck, breath hot against his skin. 

Logan trails back down your body, kisses peppering over your neck, both breasts, your belly before he presses a kiss to the top of your clothed mound. He hooks his fingers into the waistband and looks up at you, asking for permission. At your nod, he pulls he material down, eyes never leaving yours as he trails his fingers down your legs and tosses the fabric aside.

You’re fully bare, exposed in a way you haven’t been in a long time and your nerves blush across your skin. Instinctively, you try to close your legs, but he stops you, his hot palms curling against your thighs.

“You don’t gotta hide from me,” Logan says, kissing your knee and spreading your legs further apart. “You’re so pretty like this. Flushed and wet and smelling so sweet for me.”

A jolt of desire zips down your spine. Nothing could have prepared you for the filthiness of words that would spill from his mouth. Or how much you’d enjoy hearing them.

“I don’t want to disappoint you,” you murmur.

“That’s not possible.”

“Other men have—“

Your words die in your throat as Logan grips your chin, forcing your gaze up to his face. His expression is soft, but his eyes flash with a glint of something dark. “When I fuck you, I’ll be the only man in your bed, understand?”

The roughness and edge in his voice makes you shiver and heat pools between your thighs. You swallow heavily and nod.

“I want this,” he says, his tone softer. “I want you. Whatever you’ll give me.”

Slowly, you reach for his hand and guide his fingers to where you’re wet and aching for him. At the first brush of his fingertips against your folds, you gasp and your fingers dig deeper into his skin. 

“Relax, sweetheart,” Logan coos. “I’m gonna make you feel good.”

And then he’s touching you, fingers dragging through your arousal before circling around your clit. He caresses you like he knows you and you’re molten beneath him. One finger, then two slip inside you, pressing against that spot that makes you squirm and grip at the sheets beneath you.

“Fuck,” you breathe, “You weren’t lying.” Logan quirks an eyebrow, fingers still curling within you, his rhythm picking up speed. “You are good with your hands.”

His chuckle rumbles through his chest as he continues to move, this thumb working over your clit. Your hips jolt off the bed when Logan replaces his thumb with his tongue, drawing the sensitive bud into his mouth. 

He continues to work your cunt, long, flat presses of his tongue against your clit punctuated by the short, sharp thrusts of his fingers. The dual sensation is enough to wind that tension in your core tighter, building you up higher and higher until you feel yourself reaching that inevitable peak.

“Logan, I—I’m so close,” you gasp, fisting your fingers into his hair.

His growl against your cunt is enough to send you over the edge, the vibrations rippling through your body as your orgasm washes over you. Through half lidded eyes, you meet his gaze from between your thighs, his eyes dark with desire and you shiver at the intensity of his stare.

Logan crawls over you, pressing a kiss to your lips. You can taste yourself on his lips, bright and sour, as he licks into your mouth. 

“Do you trust me?”

Logan’s fingers are still moving against you, wringing out the last of your orgasm and you can only nod. He withdraws his fingers and you whine, but he just smirks and taps your hip. 

“Turn over,” he commands lowly. 

A shudder ripples through you as you willingly comply, rolling onto your stomach as Logan’s palm trails from your hip over the swell of your ass. His fingers kneed into your flesh and you squeak as he curves them over your skin, pulling you up onto your knees, drawing your hips flush with his. The thick feel of his cock presses into your ass and you can’t help but push back, enjoying the strangled moan that falls from his lips. 

“I can’t wait to be nestled deep inside you,” he groans, slotting his cock between your thighs, running the length along your wet cunt. 

You peer over your shoulder and smirk at him. “Then what are you waiting for?”

Logan lines up then and the air punches out of your lungs as he slowly eases himself in to the hilt. He’s deep at this angle and you feel claimed, owned in the best way possible as he begins to move his hips. The drag of his cock against your walls is exquisite and you’re sure you’ve never experienced pleasure quite like this before. 

His fingers dig into the flesh at your hips, grabbing as much as he can to pull you back into him and you push back, meeting him thrust for thrust. His grip is enough to be bruising, teetering that line between pleasure and pain and yet you relish it. 

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he rasps. “Look so good stretched around my cock.”

Pleasure zips along your spine and curls along your limbs, each drag of his cock against you coiling that band in your belly tighter and tighter. Yet, you need more. You need to feel him, feel his arms around you, on you, feel his mouth hot and open against your skin.

“I need to feel you closer,” you whine. “Please, I—”

Logan’s arm slips underneath you, curling just under your breasts and pulling your back flush to his chest. He holds on, fingertips splaying across your ribcage as he fucks up into you, his breath hot and damp against your ear. 

You turn your head just enough to capture his lips, your mouth pressing against his in an open-mouthed kiss. He steals the moan from your throat as his other hand dips to where you’re joined, fingers beginning to circle around your clit. 

Slipping a hand into his hair, you hold him to you, your head falling back onto his shoulder. Logan groans when you rake your nails along his scalp and you do it again. Your mixed groans and the wet noises from where he’s thrusting into you fill the room and time seems to stop. There is nothing but the thick feel of him between your legs, the fervent press of his fingers against your clit and the tight grasp of his hand across your breast. 

A litany of praise falls from his mouth and his words burn through you, setting you aflame from the inside. It’s too early for thoughts of love and forever, but you can feel something real, something undeniable pulling you together, uniting you in a way more than just physical. You’re bound to him. 

Logan’s hand slides up your sternum, his fingers coming to cup your jaw, pulling your focus back to him. The pad of his thumb pulls at your lower lip. “Come for me, sweetheart,” he husks into your ear. “I wanna hear those pretty sounds you make.”

And you do, two more forceful thrusts sending you teetering over the edge, your orgasm ripping through you. Logan doesn’t stop, fucking you through wave after wave, his thrusts getting sloppier as he chases his own release. 

“Let me feel you, Logan,” you pant, your breath coming out in short gasps. “Please.”

With a deep groan into your shoulder he comes, his cock spasming deep within you, painting your womb with his seed. His arm around your hips holds you firmly in place as he uses your body to wring out the last of his pleasure, shallowly thrusting as your walls caress him. When he finally stills, breath hot against your skin, you can feel your combined come slick against your thighs. 

You don’t know how long he holds you like that, back to chest, keeping you in his arms simply because he can. 

Only later, when the sweat begins to cool on your skin and your flesh pebbles, does Logan lay you down, finally slipping from within you. He pulls you close and you rest your head against his chest, the comforting lull of his heartbeat echoing in your ear. 

You lightly trace your fingertips over the crest of his hipbone just to feel him beneath you. His breathing evens out, approaching that blissful edge of sleep when you glance up at him. Logan opens his eyes, gaze meeting yours and he smiles.

“Logan?”

His hum vibrates through his chest.

“I think we’re healing each other.”

“Yeah, sweetheart,” he answers, “I think we are.”

[woodlandscab1n]

Losing my shit at people not understanding Shadow The Hedgehog and SONIC the hedgehog I'll maul you I'll do it!!!